


Portal To The Past

by worstloki



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Loki, BAMF Loki (Marvel), Canon who?, Fantastic Racism, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Protective Thor (Marvel), Racism, Sexism, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Time Travel, You better buckle in because this fic isn’t exactly going to be short, ace Loki, and he actually GETS the hug because thor is a good brother, and there's imperialist ideas and all that, asgard just has really bad norms, because asgard is a toxic place, does it even count as a major character death if its loki?, he's basically unkillable/un-stay-dead-able at this point anyways...., he's got the spirit, loki gets to be an exception, loki has zero tolerance for asgard's trash, maybe don't read this if you think odin and frigga genuinely cared for loki, no seriously asgard is going to be low and high key sexist and racist, not from what I can tell, okay so Thor isn't GOOD good but he's honestly trying give him a break, sexual themes and references but none of the actual fonduing, so just to clarify Thor IS a good bro he's just also still getting there ya know, unless you're loki, watch as he fails miserably, watch as odin tries to get rid of his political piece that serves no purpose anymore, you don't grow up in a cesspool of bad things and grow up to be good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstloki/pseuds/worstloki
Summary: Loki gets sent back in time a few centuries and since he's over trying to gain Odin's approval he's reliving life with his own happiness in mind. Naturally, everyone else has a problem with this.OR: that one fic where odin keeps trying but is unable to get rid of teen loki
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja/Odin (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Happiness - Relationship
Comments: 1003
Kudos: 974
Collections: Best of the time travel and SI/OCs





	1. Strange-o Mango Tango

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. 
> 
> So for those unaware this is based off [ This Post ](https://magimerlyn.tumblr.com/post/629007879951826944/mentallyunawareofpapaya-stellophia) and the premise is basically as follows: 
> 
> Loki gets thrown back a few centuries before Thor 1 and instead of trying to get back to the future or care about if he's messing up the time lines he decides he's going to enjoy not being at odds with Thor and having magic and all the things he basically never got to flaunt the first time around when he was too busy struggling to keep Thor and his friends alive while trying to make Odin proud of him. 
> 
> I'll try putting any warnings which I think apply in the notes before the chapter, however if you think there is something I haven't put in that I should feel free to tell me. 
> 
> Expect random updates with no set chapter length. I hope you enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Loki isn't cast out of somewhere in the first chapter, would it truly be a Loki story?

“I keep a watch list of individuals and beings from other realms that may be a threat to this world,” Stephen Strange says to Thor. 

“Your adopted brother Loki is one of these beings,” He continues, casually, as if detecting Loki in New York hadn’t given him half a heart attack and he hadn’t scrambled to come up with something that would be able to deal with the magic alien prince. 

It wasn’t like the detected high power signature was unexpected or anything with the two self-proclaimed gods turning up, but when it had disappeared in its entirety along with Loki into the portal Strange had been so grateful he’d ended up borrowing some of his pendant’s power as a safety precaution when closing the portal and dropping him in. 

“A worthy inclusion,” Thor notes, eyes widening as he watches the pint of amber liquid increase in volume till his huge glass is filled up again. He continues to stare at the white froth floating on top, dangerously close to spilling over. As if he wasn’t raised with a sorcerer who could do the same.

 _Yes_ , Strange thinks, with what he’d been able to sense of his magic, the man had been holding a ridiculously large amount of it. Enough that even with the flashy complexly impenetrable concealing spells he’d been able to sense it was an insanely large amount of raw magic because the barriers had been overflowing. Which shouldn’t even be possible.

 _Why hadn’t the Ancient One gotten involved in handling Loki all those years ago?_ Strange wonders, again, as he tends to every time the New York battle comes up as a topic.

He understands that as Sorcerer Supreme his main goal is to be a protector of the stone first, and this plane of reality second, but as an infinity stone it’s power easily trumps even the most powerful mage. It would’ve taken 5 minutes for the Ancient One to have prevented all the damage Loki’s attack had done. Stephen likes to think that if he hadn't been consumed in the surgery theater at the time, he would’ve attempted to take Loki on himself, even without magic. 

It’s simply undeniable that Loki was and still is a threat. Not that Stephen would ever admit he thinks that. As Sorcerer Supreme he has an important reputation to uphold and that involves representing this planet and race as one that won’t cower. Even if Thor _is_ a rather large individual with an undeniably strong magical weapon. 

“Then why bring him here?” Strange asks, inflection indicating he doesn’t disagree; Loki is a worthy inclusion on his threat list— but also denying he isn’t skeptical about the guys strength. He had, after all, as a magician no matter his caliber, failed miserably in his little Manhattan tantrum, and even that was to a team of 5 mortals without an ounce of magic between them. And his older brother; the one with a reputation for being incredibly dense. 

Loki’s attack was an insult to both his own magical skills as a sorcerer and his own intelligence as using magic itself takes time and effort to learn and he’s heard ripples of Loki’s status as a ‘Master of Magic’. 

Of course he has heard of that; in dealing with extra-terrestrial creatures in his line of work it’s impossible not to hear bits of rumours and catch some odd pieces of gossip, but given whatever mess his New York Escapade was, Stephen is not impressed.

“We’re looking for my father.”

Oh. Well that makes things easier. If Thor had been collaborating with Loki to take over New York it would have been concerning. Thor is, after all, a beloved hero. One of those that people have actually heard of. And no, Stephen isn’t bitter about that. _At all._

“And if I were to tell you where Odin was, all parties concerned would promptly return to Asgard?” All he’s saying is would it _really_ be too much to get his own ice cream flavour? It’s not like he hasn’t contributed to saving the planet before.

Tony Stark gets credit for putting his life on the line while flying a missile through that portal — _a portal which Loki shouldn’t have needed a machine for, since he has sufficient magic and presumably enough knowledge to have guided the portal open on its own_ the back of his mind unhelpfully adds — but did he _actually_ die? No! You know who _did_? Doctor Stephen _frickin_ Strange. But did _he_ get his own Ben and Jerry’s flavour? No! 

“Promptly,” Thor supplies, unaware of Stephen’s internal struggle.

“Great!” Strange claps his hands, and at Thor’s look of apprehension adds: “I’ll help you then.”

“If you knew where he was why didn’t you call me?” 

Thor, buddy, pal, if I’d _known_ your father was around here, I would’ve sent him straight to Asgard. In fact, if he’d had any decent magical signature that would’ve tripped the radar, I would’ve dropped him off there myself. _In fact_ , Strange realized, _since Mr AllFather_ (yes, he knows who Odin is; intergalactic travelers talk a lot, even when they’re fighting you, evidently) _didn’t pop up on the magic detection radar around the planet he’s got next to no magic_. 

For all the tales of him conquering the realms with the mighty OdinForce, and the fact that a _Master of Magic_ decided to let it be known he was being hosted there — because despite what he does with his magical skills denying that he’s seen Loki has the potential to qualify as one would be ridiculous — let alone Asgard’s Bifrost and Thor’s hammer (umbrella?) being magical too, isn’t _that_ interesting? He's heard that Asgard is big on magical weapons, and perhaps that was why Odin had no way to get to Asgard himself? Because he'd left his magic spear behind? For all Asgard’s famed military might to be supported through magical means but for the ruler to have next to nil of his own magic sure is... _strange…_ perhaps he should ask Thor about that later... 

For now he needs to come up with a decent excuse for why he didn’t tell Thor about the whereabouts of his father when he didn’t know about the whereabouts of his father. 

“I have to tell you, he was adamant that he not be disturbed. Your father said he had chosen to remain in exile.”

Yes, perfect, let’s blame Odin for not going back. Thor won’t light the sanctum up in sparks if he thinks Odin had _wanted_ to stay here, right? Wait. Did Odin even _have_ any way to get back. How did he even get to earth?! Did the old man really strand himself here?! How did Thor manage to omit any real information about this situation? Heck! For all he knows Loki could’ve been the one to have dumped him on earth. 

“...And you don’t have a phone…” he tags on, because he’s realised he doesn’t actually have the blonder alien prince on speed dial anyways.

“No, I don't have a phone, but you could have sent an electronic letter,” Thor says in what Strange sincerely hopes but honestly doubts is his most indignant voice. “It's called an email.”

“Oh. Well, do you have a computer?”

Stephen does not appreciate the apparent lack of knowledge on this one. Then again, he’s not known across the realms as The Bigger Dumber Blonder Prince for nothing. His ability to get their conversation off-track is disconcerting and Strange does not appreciate that. He’s considering vanishing the cup of infinite drink he's given him.

“No. What for?”

Strange officially wants to sucker punch the guy. He could use the stone after. The muscled idiot wouldn’t even remember him doing it. 

“Anyyyyways,” Thor continues as Strange seriously considers using the Infinity Stone around his neck to alleviate some of his irritation. “My father is no longer in exile, so if you could tell me where he is, I can take him home…” 

_Oh thank go_ \- actually, no, the sorcerer supreme would rather not. “Gladly,” he answers instead.

He proceeds to check whether the tracking incantation requires any Asgardian modifications. If he needlessly teleports the both of them around a bit, then Thor should be grateful that that’s _all_ he’s done. He even let him keep the mead. For now.

“Will you stop doing that?” Thor says, audibly clenching his teeth. Huh. It's almost as if he wasn't raised side by side with a sorcerer himself. Interesting…

“I need just one strand of your hair,” he says, before going to pluck one.  
  
‘Let me explain something! My hair is not to be meddled with!’ the arrogant imbecile tries to declare, but, luckily for Stephen’s sanity, the proclamation is cut off by a yelp when he yanks out a strand. 

Does Thor not understand that his physical strength doesn’t stand a chance against any magician half as competent as himself? Magic is a domain of its own and allows one to manipulate reality in a way that suits them. Muscles would never be able to break past a basic barrier put up even by a child and yet Thor acts as if he doesn't know this? Is this specific to Thor or are all Asgardians this ignorant to the forces that essentially drive their own realm? 

Strange stretches out the hair and infuses it with magic. He makes the necessary gestures and teleports them both once more, because he can, before opening a portal to Odin’s location. 

“He’s waiting for you,” Stephen tells him with a genial smile.

“Alright,” Thor takes a step towards the portal and Strange is incredibly tempted not to tell him he’s forgetting his magic hammer. Alas, the alien would probably wreck the sanctum trying to call it to him from Norway. 

“Don’t forget your umbrella,” he reminds Thor.

As Thor holds his hand out and they stand there listening to the various crashing noises that are surely objects of incredible power being knocked to the ground Strange hopes Thor will at least forget to inquire about his brother. 

Solely because Loki is still a major threat to the planet of course. No ulterior motives like confirming the nature of all Asgardians or asking how Loki manages to deal with Thor’s condescending attitude. Just some professional questions, maybe a blood oath or whatever else alien magicians do when promising not to take over the planet again. The usual.

The crashing noises continue. There are a lot of crashing noises. Stephen holds back flinching at the thought of the Cauldron of Ever Night spilling all over the floor of the third display room. 

That would be… incredibly messy to clean up. 

If he didn’t have the time stone at hand, of course. 

“I suppose I’ll need my brother back.”

_Well, it was nice hoping._

“Oh, right.”

Strange thinks he does a pretty decent job of holding back an exasperated sigh. He lifts his hands above him and moves them in a circle, drawing on the time stone’s power to reopen the barrier between this plane and the one he dropped Loki into.

The portal ring burns in a perfect circle and looking through it reveals the dark void Loki should have been falling through. 

‘ _Should have been_ ’ being the key words here, because the New York Demon _didn’t_ fall out (it would have been funny watching him drop the last few metres, so Strange is indeed disappointed under all the alarm of having lost the genocide-inclined Asgardian brother).

The expected screams _weren’t_ heard (Loki should not have been okay with space after The Bifrost Incident, if Thor’s public recollections of Loki during the post-New York interviews were to be believed, which is why Strange had thought absolute nothingness to be a good choice of plane to subdue Loki in… and because a wooden floor appearing beneath you after so long ought to garner a reaction anyways...)

And Loki _didn’t_ land hard on the floor disoriented after free-falling through nothingness at terminal velocity for the past half hour or so (confusion would’ve been unavoidable landing after so long, but to be fair the alien royalty _had_ attempted to take over the entire planet, so...) as he should have. 

After a solid minute of looking up Thor directs his glare from the portal towards Strange. 

Before the muscled alien gets a chance to ask, Stephen swallows heavily at the thought of an escaped Loki and decides to confirm what they both already know: Loki is gone.

“I swear, I left him right there.”


	2. Heimdall Sees But He Does Not Observe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loki go earth. heimdall go brrr. loki go walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps POVs a bit, but its also double the length it was meant to be, so... whoops? I'm not going to stick to one Point Of View, because its so much easier to have everyone's thoughts jumbling together, but I understand it could be hard to read and will try not to do it too often. Y'all will just have to accept that third-person omniscient is how this is going to be written. 
> 
> As always, feel free to point out any errors. 
> 
> Enjoy.

The flaming ring opened high enough above the BiFrost for Loki to think he was going to go flying off the edge. 

Luckily he landed face-first in the centre of the bridge instead. 

Wonderful.

He pulls himself to his feet and looks around. Huh. He’s never had a ring of glowing orange magic throw him back to Asgard before, but to be fair he _had_ sensed some pretty strong magic being used, so jumping across to another realm was entirely within the realm of possibility. Heh, _realm_. 

He looks up in time to see the portal spark away into nothingness, leaving him alone looking up into the dark sky above the BiFrost. _There’s something off about the stars..._

“My prince.” 

He holds back a flinch and slowly turns, seeing the GateKeepers’ oh so familiar illuminated silhouette as he stands at the end of the bridge at the entrance to the WatchRoom.

Really, _Heimdall?_ Loki let him spend the past few years running around free instead of beheading him for treason (on numerous counts) and the moment Loki gets caught acting as Odin and leaves, the golden-eyed lily-liver returns? To take his _sword_ back? Where’s Skurge when you need him? Loki holds in a sigh. He really should’ve expected this. 

“Good Heimdall, hi again,” he gives the gatekeeper a small wave as he approaches. 

The easiest way back to earth would be to BiFrost down and it’s not like the man doesn’t owe him for sparing his life multiple times now anyways. He might as well cash that in while he can. “I see you have deigned me with your presence on this fair night. Good for you, but would you mind terribly opening the BiFrost to Earth? If you avert your eyes you’ll see Thor is in need of me there...”

The gatekeeper’s shoulders stiffen imperceivably enough for the armour to not make a sound and his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of the second prince walking casually towards him across the bridge.

Walking. _Casually_. 

The gatekeeper sifts through his memories of the second prince and does not recall a single instance in the past few centuries where the prince has simply walked. Strutted, on occasion, sure, but most would consider the regular spring in his step a distinctive stride. Never in his memory has he recalled a time where Loki of all people would put aside the armour of appearances, even upon injury.

“Earth?” he asks. 

“You know, Midgard?” Loki scoffs, “For someone who claims the AllSight you sure feign confusion often enough.”

Heimdall nods, agreeing that he is confused often when it comes to the second prince. Even in this instance never has he heard Midgard be referred to as “Earth”, nor does he see what Loki would gain from lying about Thor’s whereabouts, or calling his gift the ‘AllSight’ when he knows it has no name. He suspects it is a consequence of falling through the portal and hitting his head on the crystal bridge after whatever strange magics he had been experimenting with had clearly failed him. 

“I do not see Thor upon Midgard, but if it is Midgard you wish to go I shall not stop you.” 

Heimdall turns so he may step up to the centre of the room and insert the sword into the BiFrost lock. As he does so, the mechanism below begins to spin and as he turns the sword to open the gate to Midgard Heimdall does not see the look of alarm in Loki’s eyes as he realises the outfit he is in was one he hadn’t worn in centuries. 

The first thing Loki did while getting sucked through the BiFrost was cloak himself from Heimdall’s eyes. Then, as he was engulfed in rainbow colours and dropping to Earth, he properly checked his outfit out. 

It was definitely old. _Very_ old. He remembers growing out of it _centuries_ ago and being mad enough about it to rework the centre so it would last a few more; Odin had _hated_ that - something about tailor work being expected of a lower-class woman. Sliding a few blades out of their pockets he sees the knife handles are thinner than he’s used to and- _oh. OH._

It's not just the knives. His hands are different. He’s younger too. 

Loki arrives on Earth distracted and his knees buckle so he falls and lands on them. He laughs. Heimdall hadn’t been confused, he genuinely hadn’t known what Earth was, because the norns-damned realm _hadn’t been named that yet._

He looks around and sees nothing but sand. 

_Puente Antiguo doesn’t even exist yet._

He takes a deep breath. Or, he tries to. It’s a bit hard to stop laughing. Now that he’s realised he’s been thrown back around six centuries or so he recognises the energy source that’d been on the portal - all the infinity stones are different but if you know them well enough there _are_ similarities, after all, they come from the same base source.

Some amateur wizard sent him back through time, and he’d bet that hadn’t even been their intent. 

Why do people on Earth always insist on _experimenting_ with the infinity stones? Loki’s just lucky it appears the time stone reversed time through him _and_ the world or this timeline would’ve ended up with 2 Loki’s and that wouldn’t have ended well at all. As it stands, he’s taken the place of the existing Loki, which was himself, which means he’s essentially back into the past and the only force capable of taking him back would be the time stone itself which placed him here to begin with.

Well, that’s too bad, because Loki doesn’t plan on chasing the stone down to throw himself forward again.

Just when Loki thinks he can stop laughing he realises his voice no longer has the coarseness it’d ‘ _developed’_ over the last few years and he laughs some more. 

If this was actually the early fifteenth century - and the missing pattern of layered leather over his chest says it is - then he was yet to reach his age of minor majority. 

He wasn’t even fully sixteen in human years yet. 

When Loki eventually stops laughing it’s because his stomach hurts. 

He lifts his head, drops the cloaking spell, and calls back to Heimdall: he can work with this. Of course he can work with this. A universe where he and Thor genuinely get along? Where Loki hadn’t broken down upon finding out the truth about where he was from? Hadn’t unleashed the power of the BiFrost upon Jotunheim in a bout of ~~an unprecedented psychotic breakdown~~ madness? Before he’d suffered at the hands of Thanos and been forced to attack and then happily taken the blame becau- Frigga. Is. Still. Alive. 

_She’s been manipulating you your whole life_ the voice of reason in the back of his head says, weakly, knowing it’s going to be ignored. 

The voice of reason was right. It did get ignored.

Loki gets beamed up and when the WatchRoom comes into view he even smiles at Heimdall. He even _thanks_ him for allowing him passage before he walks down the bridge and makes his way back to the palace. 

If Loki is going to have to live through life again he’s going to have fun doing it. 

Nothing much has changed drastically; except this time he knows he’s adopted and that Odin’s beard is so big because it’s hiding a huge load of lies and a massive amount of jerkdom and also is full of secrets.

Hmm… since he’d been going on 18 before the orange portal had appeared he’d actually finished and started expanding his knowledge on magic theory many years ago… as opposed to the dreadfully basic lessons Frigga had arranged for him between 14 and 16… Loki guesses he’ll have to fire the poor lady Frigga had assigned _now_ since she’ll be of no use, but that’s a nil price to pay for being able to fully utilise his magic centuries before he should’ve been able to, and he’d always wanted to get rid of her anyways; she had a bitter face and her frown always seemed to impossibly deepen even further when he was around. 

Oh! Maybe he could actually attend a school of magic this time around! The only times he’d been able to sneak in _before_ had been great but it’d been such a hassle to try and conceal his identity because people tended to see black hair green eyes and pale skin and asked immediate questions despite the change in gender. Looking back, Loki realises that an illusion over the shift probably would’ve let him stay incognito longer than a few months of two lessons a week.

That settles it. Loki’s going to sign up for actual magic lessons with an actual magic class this time, whether he gets accepted as a shapeshifter or must sneak around in an illusion to do so. If he could act under guise as Odin for years, he can definitely think up a better alias than ‘Morgana’ while changing nothing else about his appearance at all.

Yeah... with the benefit of hindsight that was a pretty dumb thing for him to have done the last time around.

Heimdall relaxes upon seeing the joyful bouncing strides of the second prince returned as he heads towards the palace. While he doesn’t fully trust the boy to be safe alone, he had not seen any need to turn his gaze towards him on Midgard. 

Perhaps if Loki had eventually become notorious for deceptive ways, foul magic, a sharp tongue and being untruthful, even if only through rumour and baseless suspicions, Heimdall may have felt the need, but this is _Loki_ \- the sweet young prince who trails behind his brother on every quest and holds nothing but adoration in every glance at him, the younger brother who uses magic and knives sparingly along with his sword only because he hasn’t the strength or skill to defend himself with a sword alone and not being able to would be embarrassing, the younger child who has been slowly building himself a reputation for mischief because he always follows the rules to the dot and goes the extra mile when sticking to them while circumventing them, a clever mastery of words which has gotten himself and his brother out of harmless trouble on numerous occasions and can even be admirable in the moment.

No. Perhaps this is someone who could in time take action against Thor or Asgard, but even so he would surely have a valid reason and truthfully acknowledge and face the consequences of those actions because at heart he is loyal to the realm; this Heimdall believes more with every foolish adventure Thor pleads to go on and every genuine smile Loki answers with while suggesting a plan of action to ensure they survive on whatever ridiculous quest they’re about to set out on.

Heimdall watches Loki walk away with a skip in his step visible from his position at the other end of the BiFrost and his mind has already moved on from the orange portal Loki had fallen through: nothing out of the ordinary _there_ , just the second prince messing around with his magic tricks, and if Heimdall has never seen a magic user change the nature of their magic, such as from a silent green light to a fiery sizzle, then he chalks it up to being another oddity of Loki’s, the dutiful prince who never quite fits in with everyone else but continues trying his best to; norns-bless his innocent soul. 

Heimdall watches Loki walk away from the BiFrost and his mind has already attributed Loki’s momentary loss of grace to having fallen from very high up and hitting the BiFrost face-first. He does not suspect that this Loki is any different from the one he knows, because in truth this Loki _is_ the same as the one he is familiar with. 

He’s still young and doesn’t actively seek attention but appreciates it when given, and while he will be wary of Thor’s affection after their rocky relationship over the past few years having a brother who has not yet basked in the extra arrogance that comes with knowing you are inheriting the throne of all the realms will be a welcome change. 

_No_ , Loki thinks, enjoying his stroll through the centre of the city, _I won’t mind staying here at all_.

 _But Loki_ , the voice of reason in his head pipes up, _what about the continuity of the timelines?_

Hm? Oh, right. Those. What about them? 

_If you stay you may damage this reality beyond repair!_

He holds back a scoff with great difficulty. What is this? A B-grade movie?

_The flow would split and everything here would collapse and then-_

You can’t have an entire universe collapse on itself. It's basic physics. How would that even work? Pixels dissolving into the ether of The Matrix? Oh, _please._

Besides, he doesn’t plan on changing anything _drastically_ , he’s just going to actually experience the years he lost slaving for the approval of the father he was never going to be able to gain the approval of anyways. He deserves that much at least, right?

Besides, it’s not like he could remember what happened centuries ago to the letter even if he wanted to (and he doesn't want to anyways). Nothing important, he’ll just make a few minor changes. Only enough to improve his own quality of life, have a bit of fun, maybe argue for the chance to try his hand at an instrument unlike the last time when he’d accepted Odin's refusal without question. Nothing major. 

When the palace main entrance is in sight Loki nods his head at the guards on either side of the door as he approaches. If there’s one thing ruling Asgard had taught him it's that the general populace loves _both_ their princes - many factions of the population actually openly favour Loki over Thor, apparently. 

As it would happen to be, regular citizens aren’t as ready to glorify war as the higher ranking warrior-class individuals, and even most guards, while fine putting their lives on the line to defend their city and royals, are not so thrilled about completing militaristic rounds over the other realms in order to maintain not-at-all-violently-enforced “peace” and “order”. 

The other realms, which very much do not particularly appreciate being stuck under Asgard’s heel any more than the majority of regular Asgardians want a war to threaten their daily life.

Of course, it wasn’t exactly _news_ to anyone that the realms Odin had conquered hadn’t desired to be conquered, and it was no surprise that the realms had pretty much been attempting to diplomatically achieve more degrees of freedom from Asgard either; but now that he’s not king himself it doesn’t leave him feeling particularly good to know that two years of gradually rescinding Asgard’s forces to allow a steady transition to independence for all those realms had been undone and likely wouldn’t _just happen_ while everything is still under Odin’s rule. 

No matter - he would just have to try doing it again without being the king. 

Not to mention the whole fiasco that had been Jotunheim not ever happening would mean potentially better living conditions and maybe even better peace treaties for them too. Oh, and Loki guesses Laufey is still alive too since he didn’t kill the man before attempting genocide...

He’s still ashamed about his actions during his shorter earlier reign, but, to be fair - and without any intent to excuse his actions of course - he _had_ been under a lot of pressure and had sincerely believed Odin and Thor would both take the first opportunity that arose to kill him off since Odin had himself admitted to taking Loki for political purposes, and Frigga not shortly after had herself said that Odin does everything for a purpose… a purpose which he’d just been told he now lacked; combined with Thor’s proclamations to slay the entire Jotun race since they were children it wasn’t difficult to draw the conclusion that without a purpose Odin had no reason to keep him around. 

And convince himself that Thor had no reason _not_ to kill him the second he found out the truth. Not with how he still treats him. Treated? Whatever. 

Not to mention Asgard’s inherent _racism_. Looking back, Loki can clearly see how out-of-proportion his reaction can seem, after all, being a different race while a monumental change in his heritage and racial identity, didn’t really change… anything else about _himself_ , did it? 

He’d realised this, of course, but by then he’d already frozen the BiFrost in place because _by the norns_ asgard was built on the largest piles of goat dung _ever_. But in the moment? Realising that every constant figure in his life had been pulled from under him like a rug and thinking he had to justify his right to simply stay alive? That had been _terrifying_. 

Loki isn’t ashamed to admit everything hurt even worse when Odin had dropped the charade of a caring father confirming his suspicions but Frigga had still been insistent on playing the role of a sweet doting mother when he was put in his cell. 

As if he hadn’t caught on to the way he’d been being played the second she’d told him to ‘make your father proud’ and made him King Regent instead of bothering to address a single one of his questions or console him about anything. Nope. Instead she had shifted the blame off herself, continuously denied anything had changed, and then incessantly nagged him in the most glaringly insistent way to continue calling the wack-job environment he’d been raised in _home_ and embrace it with open arms. 

Well, jokes on them, because Loki is back, he’s still their best hope at getting Thor to ever be anything more than a disaster on the throne, and oh boy does he plan on doing _exactly that,_ whether or not what Loki believes would make Thor suitable for the throne aligns with their personally pompous royal views. 

Loki nears the front entrance to the palace and the guards shift their spears to block his path.

Oh, he _knows_ the court is in session. It always runs this late because the OldMan council never starts on time and on Fridays when the council gets a break the drunken feasting keeps the main hall loud and lit too. 

He _knows_ the front entrance is only used for realm-wide celebratory events. It's a tradition and one that is strictly followed, and while this main door has a smaller one built into it for regular guests or guards to enter or leave, Loki stands in the centre of the larger door anyways. 

He _knows_ that on a good day it takes an entire team of Einherjar on each door to get this doorway open. It is an ostentatious doorway in case the palace gilded in gold didn’t flaunt their stolen wealth to foreign dignitaries, whose homeland the gold was stolen from, enough. 

And, well, that’s all fine, but the thing is, that _Loki_ sure considers his arrival enough to warrant a pause of court proceedings and call for celebration whether or not there are enough guards present to open the door. 

“Good afternoon, or night, rather.” 

The guards nod to acknowledge the greeting, but keep their spears crossed between himself and the door. He decides to ignore that in favour of examining how well-manicured his nails used to be/are now. He’s definitely going to enjoy being able to take the time to get his nails and eyebrows done regularly again.

“If you wouldn’t terribly mind, I wish for you to arrange the front door to allow my entry.”

“My Prince, Your Highness, we can’t-”

He hadn’t expected them to be able to follow his instructions but they hadn’t even hesitated long enough to _consider_ it, and that kind of hurt; he’d honestly forgotten how much dismissal he used to face… hmm… he’d have to do something about that. 

“Oh right, my bad, silly me, must’ve been a momentary lapse in my memory, but you’re a few people short to pull both sides open at once,”

Loki makes a dismissing gesture with his free hand, flinging the six guards aside with a green glow momentarily encasing their shoulders to do so. 

“Don’t take this personally; I’ll be sure to ensure you’re not at fault for being unable to manage my request on such short notice as that is clearly an error of the Placement Managing official, who, _oh_ , _would you look at that_ , should be in attendance this very instant!” 

Loki gives a far-too sincere cheery smile as he claps his hands together. 

Rubbing them as if to warm them up, he centres his hands in front of him and takes a deep breath before pulling them apart, leaving his arms posed not unlike a certain solid golden statue he’s actually quite fond of. 

As his hands pull apart so does the doorway, revealing the throne room with court officials at their seats and Odin sitting on the throne. 

Hands held apart Loki struts through the doorway happily, as if he didn’t just break millennium-old tradition and move a huge chunk of the palace's front wall just to make a dramatic entrance because he felt like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, what do you think Loki should do next? (after getting yelled at by odin, of course.)


	3. Odin Is The Gold Spangled Man With A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loki go hrrr, odin go grrr, loki tag-teams, odin loses,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, 
> 
> I have no concept of how many hits is a good thing, but this thing is nearly at a thousand and that's,, kind of a lot?? So, thank you???
> 
> Feel free to point out any errors, and as always, I hope you enjoy.

The doors fling open with enough force that the wind leaves Odin plastered to the back of his throne instead of on his feet like he normally would be at any sign of invasion. 

_Did his steps even falter?_ Odin thinks as he watches Loki march through the door exuding uncharacteristic confidence… which is, on its own, already something Odin is not going to try and unpack. 

No, the AllFather is a bit preoccupied trying to understand what in the nine realms the boy thinks he is doing using magic so openly, trying not to marvel at the strength it would’ve taken to get the solid metal main doors of Valaskjalf to so much as budge, and putting in a token attempt at holding back the anger at the disrespectful breaking of a millennia-old tradition followed since Asgard’s noble nature enabled it to be set as the superior ruler of the lands. 

In the end it didn’t matter what degree of outrage he would have settled on, as Loki had already marched around the council table and knelt before the stairs of the throne, cleared his throat, and addressed the AllFather before anyone else in the room had ceased sputtering (that would be the council members), gaping (that would be the guards who were peering through the wide open doorway), or deciding how loudly they would yell (Odin himself).

“AllFather,” Loki presses a fist to his chest, and while the movement is done as perfectly as could be expected, Odin couldn’t understand why the fluidity seemed almost... mocking? No, surely not. Loki is far too mannered for that. 

“I trust you are familiar with the tradition that the mighty gates of Valaskjalf are only to be opened by the Einharjar on occasions of monumental celebration, father?”

He goes over the boy's words in his head. Yes, that is… _probably_ … what the ancient scripts say. Odin isn’t _sure_ if that is the exact wording, but he trusts Loki and that his reason for bringing this up will be explained along with an excuse for him to have broken this tradition started in Bor’s time. Loki has, after all, always been right in such things of the womanly wily wordly arts, so if anyone has some random script memorised Odin trusts it would be Loki over the Head Archivist. 

Loki is also always happy to explain _why_ when he brings up specificity like this and always jumps at the first opportunity to explain his actions and the reasoning behind them, so Odin finds himself simply nodding, awaiting whatever excuse Loki will make for having blasted open the palace doors mere moments ago.

When Loki stands up straight and turns to leave instead, Odin sees red and his mouth leaps into action.

“HAVE YOU NOTHING TO SAY OF BREAKING A TRADITION THAT PREDATES YOUR BIRTH?!”

 _What’s so special about my birth that you’ve always got to use it as a timestamp?_ Loki thinks as he turns to face the throne but does not kneel again. “I believe that tradition states only the Einharjar must open the doors on a day of celebration.”

“DO NOT-“

“Yes, yes, AllFather, I know, I know, I don’t need to recite the ancient texts to you, you were there when they were written... _but it’s true!_ ” Loki turns to the court officials seated at the table, half of which have still to cease sputtering at Loki’s flippancy. “Kind Sir Archima, would you mind retrieving the official declarations for this tradition? If it’s too dusty just bring the guidelines on throne room management which dictate behaviour upon any day that isn’t one of notable celebration, please.”

The Head Archivist opens his mouth to speak. And then closes it. He does not actually know exactly where such a traditional document would be, nor does he recall any documents existing for days which were _not_ celebrations...

Loki decides to break the awkward pause resulting from the Head Archivist’s non-answer. “Oh, right, there _aren’t_ any conditions for the doors on _regular_ days, meaning no such _prestigious_ tradition has been broken, father, so I beg your pardon, but your anger is truly unwarranted in this instance.” 

Odin sets aside his rage for a moment to properly look at Loki. The child who he had adopted but never truly considered his own: not when Thor, who shared more in common including actual blood with himself, was in the room. 

He waves a hand of dismissal towards the archivist; there is no reason to fetch the documents as Loki clearly knows what he speaks of. 

Odin’s favouritism is also understandable of course, since Thor is simply the perfect example of an Aesir man, and Loki was simply... _not_ . Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that he wasn’t… _no!_ Surely not! It was nowhere near nigh time to spring his clever political scheme into action, and until then such horrible thoughts must not be permitted. Loki may not be his blood, but he certainly must be raised to believe so, which means not a trace of it not being so must make it to his face. 

Odin applies his neutral face, as it is the only way to conceal his true thoughts on the blue child in the room. This is, after all, the only way to ensure his loyalty and gain a chance for true peace between Jotunheim and Asgard. 

When the eventual time comes for Odin to install Loki on the throne of Jotunheim as he has so cleverly been hinting to them since childhood with the witful phrasing of ‘only one of you can ascend the throne, but both of you were born to be kings’, _that_ would be an appropriate time to completely withdraw emotionally and physically from the kid - leaving him naught but the sole purpose of uniting the kingdoms to achieve peace to receive any appreciation or so much as a begrudging acceptance of his hybrid heritage. It pains him to know he’ll have to sacrifice his lesser-beloved adopted second son in such a way, but Odin knows it must be done, for the better of the realms.

Thinking of his smart long-term plans to rid himself of the runt, which still have at least a few more centuries before they can come into fruition since Loki is still but a boy, has put Odin in a good mood and he decides that since no crime has technically been committed he will let Loki go with only a light punishment.

“Father, I also wish to file an official application of complaint to the Placement Manager as th-” 

Odin decides that insulting his own appointment of his trusted Placement Manager was a crime and he will let Loki go with nothing short of an extremely harsh punishment instead. 

“No, Loki.” He says in his sternest neutral-ish voice, the one which is a few vowels away from a growl. If Odin believes half-growling at the boy is not the best way to retain a neutral standing in Loki’s eyes it does not show.

Loki, however, is greatly enjoying the excessive use of manners being back at court as a youth has granted him the use of. He can make it appear as though he’s just trying to be proper, and not actually mocking everyone in the room for their own insincere outward displays of mannerisms. 

“I understand. It’s not as if _I_ need any help opening a door anyways,” He gives a light bow and makes to leave, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, father, I need to look for my... brother,”

Can Loki still call Thor his brother? Despite how quickly he proved he would give up on Loki? Can he ignore the dismissal of Loki’s grief? The way he was ready to hold his neck as Mjolnir came towards him? Yes. Yes, he can, because Loki knows _this_ Thor hasn’t done any of that, and he wouldn’t have held a few small past mistakes such as those against the other Thor either. 

Loki is halfway to the throne room’s side door when it swings outwards and grants Thor admittance. Meanwhile, Odin realises he forgot to berate Loki for the use of magic and has added ‘yell at loki some more’ to his mental to-do list.

“Brother!!” Thor cheers, giving Loki a quick hug that lifts him off his feet. Loki hugs him back of course, but not before taking the time to think about how much kinder this Thor is and how he ever could have forgotten how _full_ his hugs are. 

He hasn’t even hit 17 yet so Odin hasn’t officially announced that the throne will go to him, and he hasn’t even started keeping a beard yet because he hasn’t gotten into the whole _the king must be a pillar of manly strength and manly man-pain_ idea yet and he still takes the time to properly _look_ at Loki and _listen_ to his ideas and he’s still cutting his hair to just below his _ears_ and- _WAIT_. 

Loki pushes away the second Thor puts him down and grabs at his own hair. 

“Brother? Is everything alright?” Thor asks, and Loki looks up at him, heartbroken, because his hair is _only up to his ears too_ and he’d spent _so long growing it out_ , and what he sees is that Thor is… genuinely concerned? He’s holding his hand out as if unsure if Loki will allow him to touch his hair? Thor… actually cares for him again?! 

“Loki?!” Thor says in alarm, and Loki feels his eyes watering, and this is so embarrassing but he’s _missed_ having a brother who actually _cared_ for him and it’s maybe just a bit much to handle so he wipes at his eyes and smiles. “I’m fine, really, there’s nothing wrong,” he tells Thor, but the big oaf that he is, does he listen? No, instead he brings a thumb up to Loki’s eye and wipes at the wetness, angry at whatever has saddened Loki such that he would resort to denials, but far _far_ more concerned about what has made Loki sad to begin with. 

Thor had been working on his sword form before settling in for the night - yes, Thor sleeps in his armour sometimes, what about it? - when he had heard a loud bang and come rushing, and now that he finally looks away from Loki and focuses on everything else in the room, he notes three things: 

  1. That the palace doors are open.
  2. Everyone is staring at either Loki or father.
  3. Father is angry.



Surely, the doors opening too hard had been the source of the loud noise from earlier, as the doors had left handle-shaped dents in the walls where they had swung and hit with what must have clearly been a large amount of force. This was strange as Thor did not recall what occasion would require them to be open this night, but he makes a mental note to ask Loki later. Perhaps father was angry that the Einharjar had opened the doors too hard?

Everyone staring at Loki or father was not an uncommon occurrence at court, after all, it was often that Loki would be in attendance to observe proceedings (Loki enjoyed such things and sometimes Thor would even attend with him to keep him company although he never understood the appeal court could possibly have to anyone) and Loki has always been one to have useful contributions to make, which often assisted in hastening the solutions to whichever issues were at hand. However, Thor sees that the way people are staring at Loki right now is not with the usual begrudging acclaim reserved for him, and he does not know what that means but he does not like it. He steps around Loki to block the courtiers’ line of sight, thereby obstructing whatever reason Loki has been leaving (surely he was fleeing from something which upset him or brother would never abandon court mid-procession!) from potentially saddening him more. 

Father being angry is not too unusual, as it happens whenever Loki would have proof against his word, which was, admittedly, quite often. Sometimes, Thor even jokes that Loki enjoys reading the official scripts solely to antagonise father, but in this moment, coming to the conclusion that father has said something which must have drawn his brother to tears, he honestly doesn’t care _what_ Loki could have said. What matters is that Loki is crying and he will do everything in his power to stop it. 

“FATHER!” Thor’s loud voice breaks the tense silence which had only been broken before by Loki’s quiet sniffles.

“My son,” Odin answers, turning his attention to Thor as he storms up the stairs towards the throne, all traces of the anger that had twisted his face moments ago gone. 

Thor kneels a few steps down from the golden throne, and takes a few deep breaths to ensure anger does not take over his voice. 

“What is going on here, father? What have you done to Loki?” 

Odin sighs. His firstborn son is not the sharpest tool in the weapons shed. 

“You should ask, rather, what has _been done_ by Loki.” Odin answers, because, _really?_

 _Loki_ , notorious for his _mischief_ , is _right there_ , and Thor accuses _the AllFather_ of having done something because Loki _shed a few tears_ while _storming out of the room?_ Odin watches as Thor narrows his eyes at him before turning his head to look at Loki and, rising, walks back towards Loki who is still lingering at the side door.

“Is this true, brother? Have you truly done something to earn our father’s ire?” Thor asks Loki softly; in the voice reserved only for him. 

Odin holds back a scoff. Their _brotherly affection_ goes too far sometimes, even in _his_ eyes despite knowing the appearance must be kept up for his grand charade to succeed. He struggles to hold back a growl. Nearly into adulthood Thor _still_ orbits his younger brother as he would when he was a child. 

It is of course necessary for the two to be bonded if Loki is to be used to guide Thor’s reign as well as rule Jotunheim in his stead without complaint due to the self-worth issues Odin has been fostering and hopes to solidify with the eventual grand reveal, but that doesn’t mean Odin has to _like it._

Despite his discouragement of public displays of affection over the past few years Thor and Loki simply do not cease with the _touching_ and Odin is thinking of making Thor’s eligibility of kingship dependent on him stopping to do so because, frankly, centuries of watching Thor interact with the jotun do not make it any easier to watch.

 _There he goes again,_ Odin thinks, as he watches Thor cup Loki’s face in his hands and bring their foreheads together to talk to him softly. Perhaps when Thor is done Loki says something back in an equally hushed voice, but Odin wouldn’t exactly know with _Thor’s_ _lumbering frame blocking the younger prince from sight._

He thinks he sees Thor’s shoulders rise and fall as if he were laughing, but Odin wouldn’t be able to confirm that either since the boy had been taught the art of speaking and laughing near-silently by Loki many many years ago because he would always give the pair away as culprits of any foul deeds they were guilty of with his thunderously loud laughter. 

Odin holds back a sigh and decides to distract himself with the pass time of deciding what punishment Loki should get for using his magic so… flamboyantly. 

The boy _knows_ his magic is disgraceful and goes against everything a warrior’s skill set _should_ entail, but perhaps a reminder needs to be put in place; he looks towards the members of the council for inspiration and when his eyes land on the Head Archivist, Sir Archima, he considers placing Loki under his command for a week. 

_No, Loki would just use the time to read up on more official documentation he shouldn’t have gotten his hands on to begin with. And he would enjoy it too, that conniving snake._

He looks instead towards the representative official appointed by the Military Head Tyr, a General in training, Odin believes. After a moment considering it, Odin decides that yes, the young Sir Genelta would make a decently strict instructor for Loki’s weapon sessions for the next few weeks, and he’d get everything approved by Tyr tomorrow morning for the arrangements to be made.

Thor turns from whatever half-embrace him and Loki had been taking part in and walks back up the stairs to the throne. He clears his throat, and takes a quick glance at Loki - who Odin notes with distaste is looking… genuinely happy?? What is wrong with that boy today? Is he feeling well? Did his weak genes succumb to some other illness? He shudders. The last time Loki had caught a disease had left his rather large cache of magic acting unpredictably and back then he had been a child with very limited knowledge of spells; not that his knowledge had improved much thanks to Frigga placing all learning-level books in restricted sections of the libraries and cleverly sticking him with a teacher who would teach nothing but basic control exercises, effectively limiting any actual use the boy could have of the useless arts he seemed enamoured with, but it was still a concern - before speaking.

“I have it on good authority that no rules have been broken here this day, and that it is a magic user’s right to use their magic however and wherever they may see it so fit in accordance with the Asgardian Laws of Old,” Thor locks his gaze with Odin’s’, challenge clear within them, despite his kneeling position from many steps down “do you have any objections to this, AllFather?” 

AllFather. _AllFather_ . Since when does Thor refer to him by his _title?!_ Odin sends an equally burning levelled glare back towards Thor and answers evenly.

“No, all is well, my son.”. 

Thor nods his head, “thank you father”, and rises, anger evident in every line of his body, even if his words did not display it. It is clear to everyone in the gold-gilded palace room, including the court officials now whispering behind cupped hands, that Thor still blames Odin for whatever imagined slight Loki could possibly have been crying over.

Odin watches as Thor makes his way back to Loki, whose eyes are completely dried now. Loki, who is very clearly struggling to hold back a huge smile and probably a cackle too, and who had very clearly _just_ used his influence on Thor to make a public spectacle of _crying like a little girl_ right after his last public spectacle of _opening a door._

Once the pair has left the room - holding hands no less - Odin clears his throat and commands the court session to resume, and so it does. Mere minutes later the court officials argue over the funding requirements for the northern district’s education system, and Odin sits on the throne Hlidskjalf, a symbol of his power, and looks down at them bickering, and all he can think of is what he would do if today’s events would end up being a recurring act. It is best to be prepared for all scenarios.

The court officials, of course, know better than to question the AllFather’s decisions when it comes to his sons, and to keep their opinions to themselves.

For now. 

Odin knows word of Loki’s deplorable actions will inevitably spread. 

Odin makes a mental note to consult with Frigga in the case of such a recurring scenario being likely: being from Vanaheim, she had been able to look past his heritage and manages to stand a closer presence with Loki, so surely she would be able to rationalise his actions and words here today, even if he himself can not associate the Loki that broke down his palace front door in the middle of the night to the reserved boy that would regularly never even bring himself to open his own room door without knocking first. This mental note went right next to the one reminding him he had not gotten the opportunity to yell at Loki some more yet. He would need to keep that in mind later, perhaps right after court, or tomorrow morn, but either way, talk to Loki about his inappropriate conduct at some point he must.

As a central piece in his grand plan there was a lot residing on Loki’s shoulders; not only to fall victim to many many centuries of internalised racism, but also to grow an unerring loyalty to Asgard and Thor which would ensure his appropriate handling of both his own and Thor’s kingdoms when the time came, even if Thor’s fermented hatred of the frost giants converts the love he holds for his ‘brother’ to spurn. He would be the driving force to catalyse Thor’s suitability and for the throne and harbour distrust towards those whose ears he did not already have, such as that of his wise father.

Loki’s desperation for something as simple as acceptance after being told he was rejected by his true family as a baby, he is rejected by Asgardian society for his true race and many weak un-aesir traits, and again rejected as a true member of Jotunheim as an adult for having been raised in Asgard, would create the perfect scenario for Odin to act as the only available conduit of something other than hatred or disrespect for the Jotun. It would leave the infamously clever young prince willing to serve Odin fervently, even in a tireless task such as moulding Thor into a semi-decent king, and he would do so without any constant appliance of force to maintain fear or respect.

Odin was not one to delude himself with images which could not be. He knew Thor was not suitable to sit at the seat of the nine realms and rule steadily. Not before he felt the betrayal that would be a dark secret kept by his closest companion. Odin’s plan to have an heir which would stand proudly in his own image was foolproof and the added by-product of gaining political ownership over Jotunheim was a bonus.

A chilly breeze reaches him, rousing Odin’s environmental awareness. He decides he could think further on the ingenuity of his plans later and should focus on the conclusion of today’s court session for now. 

When another cold nightly breeze makes its way to him on his grand throne of power, Odin finally orders the Einharjar to close the main doors of Valaskjalf.

It is with great regret that they inform him that they are a few people short to be able to haul the doors closed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, eat dirt Odin.
> 
> About Thor: I wasn't just going to DITCH Loki in Asgard ALONE. That place is TERRIBLE. Besides, I refuse to believe Thor and Loki were brothers for a thousand years and Thor was Like That™ the entire time. My reason for Thor changing into what we saw on-screen? Odin. Why? Because when in doubt, blame Odin.
> 
> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, leave suggestions for what mischief Loki should get up to next, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself.


	4. Thor is a Good Br-oh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loki cri thor go y and thor doing his best really does tri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!
> 
> Slow chapter because I need to get things out of the way but things will get heated up in the boiling pot of golden disaster soup that is Asgard soon enough. Casual reminder to check out the tags on this fic because while its a comedy there is racism and sexism and all that other thumbs down stuff.
> 
> Feel free to point out any errors, and as always, I hope you enjoy.

_Truly, nothing is wrong,_ Loki had said, which had only increased Thor's worry tenfold, for such a blatant denial of the truth it was, clearly declared so by the tears which had been lining his eyes. 

Even if Loki would not tell Thor what the problem was he had decided to confront father for Loki's sake and his own peace of mind anyways. 

Direct action, as Loki has dubbed it, is usually a fairly decent way to get information, but since it was Father, of course _he_ had managed to circumvent the actual subject matter and not mention what exactly Loki had done. And while Thor could be intense he has never been able to hold his anger while looking at Loki, so Thor had been left to resort to _figuring out_ what had happened or _asking_ what the matter had been. 

Which he _had_.

 _Well, perhaps I mourn the loss of the luscious blonde locks I had envisioned on you,_ had startled a laugh out of him, for that was indeed a hilarious image, although he had still been incredibly hurt that Loki felt the need to conceal his true emotions from him, and for the words of... _Father?_ Does his brother truly think so little of him? That he would abandon him without pause if it meant siding with Father? 

Now they sit in Thor’s room and he watches Loki pick at the meat in his plate. 

The only sound in the room is the occasional clinking of cutlery.

That, and the air around them might as well be sizzling from the way Thor is staring Loki down, because the brat had yet to answer his question on what the dispute with Father had been over.

 _Luscious blonde locks?_ Thor had joked in return, back in the throne room, _surely that would call for luscious dark locks for yourself?_

And Loki had _stilled._ He hadn’t _said_ anything to give it away but Thor had seen the way he straightened his head and his fingers had twitched. Perhaps Father had insulted Loki’s hair? That explained why he had grabbed his own in frustration, and Loki _does_ put a lot of effort into his appearance, but surely that should be a reason he _wouldn’t_ get self-conscious over a few words, right? 

Thor wasn’t sure what Father had done but he was not going to put this aside so easily, after all, Loki of all people is not easily offended and yet he had been brought to _tears_. _Tears!_

No, Thor had not hesitated to take Loki straight to his room and wrap him in a blanket (which was when Loki insisted Thor stop treating him like the “filling of a burrito”, whatever that meant) before having the kitchen arrange a quick meal and hurrying back with the plate.

Still, it would be nice to be made aware of what exactly he was protecting Loki from. 

Not that Thor could be certain that Father’s _words_ were the reason for his sadness since Loki _hadn’t spilled the actual reason yet_ , but Thor was entirely certain Father could never intentionally cause physical harm to either of them, so until further information comes to light, Thor has decided to put his own detective work aside and just wait it out. 

For now, separating Loki’s hurt and their father’s anger would have to be the best course of action. 

To avoid rekindlement of an argument through a chance encounter, and for the sake of privacy because Loki was gone all day and Thor may have missed him a lot in training, Thor had gone to the kitchens and requested a meal for Loki. Thor had already dined earlier since he’d been about to go to bed but he also didn’t want to leave Loki awake alone when Father could potentially chase him down after court - it’s happened before - and make him feel more sad or shed more tears than he already had, hence the dinner in Thor’s room, where he could keep an eye on his brother (and an ear for when the staring finally gets an answer out of him).

Food _technically_ isn’t supposed to be permitted in either of their bedrooms but Thor believes that there would be no greater cause for an exception to be made than this, so here he sits cross legged on the floor on the opposite side of a small wooden table from where Loki eats, staring him down, still trying to telepathically get Loki to confess. Not that it’s working in the slightest. 

The knife scratches against the plate as Loki cuts through a morsel of roasted goat. 

By the Norns, this is the most awkward dinner they’ve shared since that time with the bullfrogs. Loki won’t even _look_ at him. 

“So, Brother,” —Thor reaches over and picks up the piece of meat Loki has cut off— “have you decided to confess to what heinous crimes thou hast committed in thy mighty AllFather’s presence?” He pops the bite into his mouth and grins. 

Loki scowls, “I told you, there was no crime!”

“Aye, and I did tell that to Father and he did not doubt it, however, Brother,” —Thor’s smile drops as he places a hand under Loki’s chin and lifts it so that they can look each other in the eyes across the table— “you have yet to tell me what had upset you. ” 

Thor stares at Loki. Loki stares at Thor. 

_How did this manage to become even more awkward than before?_ Thor asks himself, before answering his own question with _maybe he knows you’re talking with chewed meat stuffed in the cheek of your mouth._

Remembering how heartbroken Loki had been after looking up to analyse his face earlier (of course Thor notices when his brother does that; looking for truth in expressions might be something Loki has near-mastered but he is far from learning to conceal the way his eyes flit around the persons face and body when he does so) Thor decides that if he has to make awkward eye contact with Loki to get answers, then so be it; it could not get any more awkward than it already has become anyways.

And that’s when Loki starts laughing and of course things become _more_ awkward because Thor was still trying to maintain eye contact to intimidate him into giving him answers but Loki’s laughing is bordering on hysterical and sounds off and Thor can’t tell why but it sounds as if he were trying to hide a sob and _oh Hel no_ he isn’t letting Loki out of his sight for at least another day because whatever he’s going through is hurting him and if he won’t admit to what happened the least Thor can do is be there for his younger brother and make sure he doesn’t get more upset. 

The glaring-at-Loki interrogation plan clearly isn’t working and Loki may or may not be sad again so Thor decides to switch to Plan B which he has just come up with. He crawls around the table and puts his arms around Loki, blanket and all, to hug him. 

When Loki’s breath eventually stops hitching as he laughs and it's just a normal laugh now Thor still doesn’t let go. 

Plan B means he’s got to keep hugging until Loki confesses. 

Unfortunately for Thor, instead of becoming uncomfortable and admitting the truth to escape quicker, Loki leans into the hug, and with his face pressing into Thor’s neck and muffling his voice, Loki starts _apologising_.

 _Loki_ , his _brother_ , who always _tries so hard_ to do his best and make everyone proud and _never_ regrets all the mischief they get up to together and _never_ gives up in training even though he’s a _terrible_ swordsman _,_ who is confident in every attempt of anything he does _even when it’s magic_ , is... _apologising?_ Since _when??_

“What has you so upset, Brother?”

“I don’t know why I keep, I just, I’m sorry, nothing is _wrong—_ ” 

Loki, having trouble forming coherent sentences? Stumbling over what he’s trying to say? Sounding like any child that isn’t Loki when caught stealing muffins from the cooling rack? Thor guesses there is a first for everything, and if he wasn’t having to _comfort his upset brother_ he would make fun of Loki for it. Maybe he could still do that later.

“I demand answers…” Thor demands, making his voice deeper and gravelly to convey seriousness. “Or else…”

“I told you—” 

“Then it is settled.” Thor starts dragging Loki towards his bed, “no answers means you shall remain here for the night.”

Loki chokes on air and starts coughing. 

Thor keeps dragging him. It isn’t the positive reaction Thor had been expecting, but then again, Thor doesn’t know that Loki technically hasn’t shared a bed with him for centuries, and Loki isn’t about to _tell him that_. But he also can’t just stay here! What if he has a nightmare or something? Loki has read too many dubious online stories to know how that would end.

Then again, they had only stopped camping together outside and indoors before because Odin had said so. Why should Loki not take advantage of the circumstances being before that had happened? It would be extremely suspicious if he suddenly didn’t want to share a bed... and Loki feels any excuse he could possibly provide has the potential to give away the fact that he’s actually kind of from the future...

Not to mention he’s still trying really hard not to laugh-cry because of all the things he had thought could bring him to tears now in this time, having his brother _care for him_ was not high on that list. It wasn’t even _on_ the list if Loki is being honest with himself. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to cry over and Loki truthfully doesn’t understand why his face is deciding to do this.

He’s about to voice a token protest when Thor starts hauling him up onto the bed. Thor’s grunts as he tries to roll them both from the floor to the bed while maintaining the hug are way too amusing to interrupt with a token protest. He settles for complaining instead. 

“Thor you’re squishing me.”

Thor is too busy trying to swing them over with the help of momentum. 

Since Thor clearly has shown no concern for the physical well-being of his stomach-to-ribs region with his crushing hold, Loki resorts to nagging.

“Thor? My rib hurts.”

“Thor! You’re still crushing me!” 

“ThoR!! The blanket is too warm.”

“ThoooOOOOOoooo—” 

Thor actually manages to fling them over and now Loki’s face is stuffed between a pillow and what he’s pretty sure is Thor’s under armour shoulder plate. 

“Yes, Brother? Were you saying something?” Thor says, smiling proudly (Loki can tell by his voice) at having accomplished the task of throwing them both into bed without breaking the hug. Loki sighs into the pillow and is struggling to hold back what he knows is a matching smile. He turns his head to look at Thor and says, in the quietest voice, as payback for personhandling him to bed, quietly, so the horror and gravity of the situation can truly get to him, quiet, so that Thor’s reaction will be funnier. “You forgot to turn the lights off.”

Thor yells in frustration, and Loki laughs. It won’t take him long to get used to the old Thor at all.

—

Arranging breakfast for both of them is a short but pleasant affair in comparison to waking up, as at least no one in the _dining hall_ had kicked Thor off the bed. 

The upside to which was the fact that it made today one of those rare and joyous occasions where he’d awakened before Loki, which was really good because he had planned on getting himself and Loki to avoid eating with Odin for breakfast and Loki would have insisted on coming with him to the feast hall to ‘choose his food’ if he’d been even semi-conscious. 

Which wouldn’t have ended well because Father had already been there when Thor had arrived and grabbed a plate, and while he’d managed to stay on the other side of the room and only _occasionally_ glare at Father when their eyes happened to meet, if _Loki_ had been there and so much as _frowned_ Thor doubts he wouldn’t have _at least_ screamed at Father just to make his position on yesterday’s events clear. 

Odin had clearly tried blaming Loki for some misdeed he had not committed, even if Thor did not know what it was yet.

Thor still has no idea what Father could have done or accused him of to make Loki cry yesterday but he knows Loki wasn’t at fault and by the way Father had cleared his throat when Thor had headed towards the door with a plate piled with breads, jams, and meats, and asked after Brother with a gruff “Loki?” he did not approve of Thor holing Loki up in his room at all. 

_Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it?_ Thor had thought as he’d continued walking out the door and headed back to his own room balancing the plate so none of the bread rolls or buns would fall. _Have fun in your council meetings, Father._

Thor opens the door and puts a hand over the sensor for the lights as he enters, and then chuckles as he catches Loki pulling the blanket over his head before he starts moaning about the room being too bright. 

“Aarghhhh,” Loki says, poetic as always, “ThooOOOoor I’m trying to sleeeEEEEeep.”

“Aye, but how will you feast on grains if you are busy snoring?” Thor reasons. He knows Loki isn’t fond of meat in the morning, but bread? Loki would fight anyone any day for warmed bread in the morning. 

Loki sits up in bed and scowls, squinting at the plate Thor is putting down on the table, as if to make sure Thor actually had the goods. 

He flips the blanket off and gets out of bed dramatically; even flattening the crinkles out of his sleeves and tunic to display his good mood as he walks over and then drops cross-legged to the floor next to the low-rise table. 

Thor takes a seat by his side and pulls the plate between them. 

“Sleep well?”

“I always sleep well, why would you ever think otherwise?” Loki semi-sarcastically inquires, grabbing a bun and taking a bite out of it. 

“Well, I only found myself on the floor six times in the night, so I assumed,” Thor says, taking most of the meat chunks to his side of the plate and leaving a small portion for Loki in case he wants some too. “Speaking of which, I swear you never squirm around _that much_ , and yet your restlessness and the strength of your heels have apparently both increased,”

Loki shrugs, and Thor takes it as an invitation to continue speaking. “I know you enjoy a certain level of unpredictability Brother but I’m afraid that is a change for the— ” 

“It’s not a change for the worse.” 

Loki’s tone leaves no room for argument on the statement and Thor thinks that over because it is rare indeed for his voice to be so steely or definitive. _Of course he slept restlessly, Father was mad at him and he always takes that to heart you absolute oaf,_ Thor’s inner voice of logic berates him, sounding, as usual, more like Loki than himself. 

Plus, Thor is well aware that his brother’s mood changes on a whim; it's just another thing that makes his brother who he is. He’s constantly changing things up and making life more interesting for everyone. Like right now how he’s spreading both jam _and_ butter onto a bread roll. How... unique...

Loki is always doing things differently and Thor can never see how that is a bad thing, especially since he’s meticulously careful not to harm people with his whimsical ideas. For example, he’d never force anyone else into eating whatever lunacy the large amounts of butter and jam he’s slathering onto his bread is.

“Well, it changed my lower back for the worse,” Thor jokes, only to regret it a moment later as Loki expressively cringes. 

Thor laughs it off and puts an arm over Loki’s shoulder to assure him he is not actually hurt. He hears Loki mumble an apology anyways right before he stuffs half the entire butter-jammed-up bread roll into his mouth. 

They enjoy most of their meal in comfortable silence just sitting side by side and Thor is careful not to remove his arm from around Loki in case any remnants of yesterday’s bout of sadness remain. (Hugging Loki till he succumbed to sleep was a good overall impromptu plan, however his arm which had spent the night stuck under and around him would not like to relive the experience.)

As usual, Loki finishes eating before him.

Not as usual, Loki starts to fidget. 

Thor’s mouth is stuffed with bread and bits of meat so he uses his shoulder to nudge Loki in what he hopes will translate over as _what’s wrong?_

Loki clears his throat, message received. “About the whole, uh, topic of changing,” he starts, and immediately has Thor’s full attention because _Loki?_ _Nervous?? Excuse me, since when???_

“What would you say if I as a person was constantly changing?” 

Thor swallows his mouthful and makes sure he does not play the question off as a joke since Loki clearly sees this as a serious topic. He was upset yesterday so the incoherence then doesn’t count, but asking something as strange as _this_ out of nowhere? 

‘What if I was constantly changing,’ Loki says, as if they didn’t grow up together and literally live in the same building and attend the same classes and even right now are finishing off a sleepover where they shared a bed. 

As if, of everyone in the palace, Thor isn’t the most equipped to understand the fact that Loki is built on changing; he’s indecisive until he’s not, he does what he wants until what he wants switches, he cautiously stands behind the line safely until the moment he chooses to attack - that is just how Loki _is_. 

As if Loki isn’t _already_ constantly changing.

He suggests madness, yet there is _always_ method in it. He doesn’t _just_ change his mind, he adapts the plan to fit the new scenario, _that_ Thor can confidently vouch for after centuries of questing together. Loki is _different_ because for all his perfect manners and form and knowing when to be creative and when not to act out he always ends up doing what he knows is _right_ and Thor loves him for it.

“I would say that is an apt summary of you, Brother,” he solemnly replies.

“No,” Loki says, “what if I told you I’m _literally_ constantly changing” 

Thor nods. “Yes, you’re always arguing for new policies and suggesting new ways of doing things even if Father refuses to agree in following through with them, and I think that is truly admirable of you too.”

“No,” Loki insists, again, despite Thor already having heard him, “what if my _gender_ isn’t always the same.”

Oh. Thor hasn’t considered _that_.

In fact, if asked in any other way under regular circumstances Thor would laugh and pass this off as a jest: Loki was, after all, a magic user, and a natural shapeshifter on top of that if the art wasn’t womanly enough on its own. Not that Loki ever utilised magic in a womanly fashion or anything but shapeshifting itself was a rare thing across the nine and Thor had naturally chalked Loki’s ability for both up to him being _Loki_. 

But for Loki to suggest that he was not always a man? That… would not go over well with anyone else. 

Thor, though, he thinks about all the peculiar things about Loki and he simply can’t bring himself to see how Loki changing shape would possibly be any different to him reading about magical theory in his spare time or enjoying council meetings or fussing about his appearance or refusing to drink mead or using leather armour instead of metal or wearing heeled boots or having vibrant green eyes or being regularly averse to contact or disliking how the Bifrost feels or thinking bread is better than spiced meat or turning into a snake when feeling lonely or putting both butter and jam onto a bread roll in excessive quantities. 

Thor does not understand why Loki would ever willingly degrade himself into presenting as a woman, but if Loki wants to then Thor does not see any harm that could be done other than to Loki’s own dignity and image… which is something he knows Loki values. A lot. Maybe a bit too much sometimes. 

“Well, I would say that if—“

“It wouldn’t _just_ be a physical change it’d be an actual _actual_ change because I would actually _be_ not particularly male if I _did_ switch over but I would still be _me_ of course just… _look_ different for the most part.”

“That doesn’t sound especially strange, Brothe—“

“You wouldn’t be able to call me ‘Brother’ if I wasn’t male, or maybe you _could_ depending on how much I felt like it? I wouldn’t really mind either way but it’d be preferable if you didn’t since you might just confuse other people who would in no way be welcome to do that.”

Thor looks at Loki, his own arm still over his shoulder and he notices the signs of anxiousness radiating off him so he gently squeezes Loki’s shoulder and gives him a wide smile to show his support.

“Loki, that doesn’t sound like much of a change at all… _Sister."_

Loki has the gall to laugh. 

Here Thor is, accepting that Loki is wanting to experiment with shapeshifting into a female form, _and Loki is laughing at him for it_. Thor is very confused. Isn’t this what Loki is asking for? That he should pretend Loki were a woman? 

He can’t bring himself to be angry at Loki laughing at him, but he understands the problem when Loki manages to stop laughing long enough to explain. “I’m not female _right now_ , can’t you _tell?_ And it’s not going to be a _permanent change,_ don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell you when you should stop calling me Brother, Brother.” 

Thor doesn’t understand why Loki’s laughter sounds so light but he assumes this has been something he’d been worried about asking for a while. Perhaps _this_ was the reason Father had been mad at Loki? Thor himself is appalled that Loki would even _imply_ he was female, but he understands how that could work with the shapeshifting and Loki _already_ displays so many mismatched traits that it makes sense in its own way that he would wish to experiment with a female form if it is at his disposal. 

But Thor knows that Father and the rest of Asgard will not take such a slight as lightly as he himself; it will be a miracle if even some small portion of the population does not scorn a regular man, let alone _a prince_ , for laying aside his manhood in such a way. 

Thor decides to put such thoughts aside and focuses on eating. He can worry about supporting Loki in this fun little endeavour later. When he's finished with the food.

He’s nearly done when Loki starts poking his shoulder. Repeatedly.

 _How does he even do that??_ Thor wonders for the trillionth time, _the under armour on its own is strong enough to resist any regular blade, but for some reason Loki’s index finger of all things manages to dig into my deltoid no matter what I wear._

“What is it?” he asks with a final mouthful of a bun stuffed with cooked beef. He tries to make himself sound annoyed but Loki is in a good mood and that makes it extremely difficult for him to find cause for annoyance, even if Loki _is_ disrupting him as he enjoys the final juicy bites of his breakfast meats.

“Come with me to the Cloth Room?”

“The _Cloth Room?_ ” Thor asks, because he’s genuinely never thought of going to such a place where spare cloths and womanly equipment was kept before and he didn’t even know that when mother spoke of such places that there was one _within the palace grounds_. Plus they’ll need to get to the grounds for training soon and neither of them have their armour on yet. “Where’s that?”

Loki just rolls his eyes and takes the answer for the yes it is. 

He'd be surprised Loki even knows where it is but he's _Loki,_ so of course he knows where something as bizarre and useless as a room for cloths is; that's just the way Loki is, and Thor wouldn't ask Loki to be any other way even if it means dealing with casually being asked to do strange things like this on a random Friday morning. 

Thor just wants Loki to be happy, and he sees nothing especially effeminating about accompanying Loki into something such as a room with clothing supplies if he does not have to touch anything there, but he really hopes his younger brother/sometimes-will-look-like-a-sister understands the consequences if he intends to make his _changing status_ a public thing. 

But he knows it’s Loki. And Loki always has some idea of what he’s doing. 

—

Loki has no idea what he’s doing. 

He hadn’t intended to bring up his gender fluidity, but he also hadn’t intended for there to be any stakes in his fun little resetting of life, yet here he is, valuing how much Thor cares for him and the fact he didn’t play off his questions as gags.

It was risky to bring up the gender thing, but after waiting too long to tell anyone last time he hadn’t wanted to have to go through that again; by telling Thor maybe it would save him some of the sexist comments he would inevitably face?

Oh, he knows Thor has accepted that Loki will be ‘ _changing’_ , but he also knows that just because Thor has said it’s okay doesn’t mean it is. 

Asgard is a flaming trash pile of sexist bull droppings and for all its talk about being the Golden Realm it has always been big on ignoring its own misogynistic patriarchal culture. 

Can women roam free? Yes of course they can, they can even get jobs and there’s nothing keeping them home but if anything bad happens to them it’s _on them, obviously_. Can women wear what they want? As long as their clothes fit into _this_ _criteria_ they need not fear ostracism for anything they want to wear. Can women do what they want? Yes of course but they’re women so why would they _want_ to train or learn to do anything other than sewing or household magic.

And the worst part of it is that while a few women will admit to the system being this way, literally no man in their right mind had agreed with him when he was acting as Odin and had tried to change this, so trying to fix the entire genderism issue was new terrain even for someone as futuristically knowledgeable as himself.

Which is completely unrelated to being genderfluid except for the small fact that there’s no way Thor is _actually_ going to be fine with Loki changing gender whenever he wants. 

Not that Loki cares; if he’s in the past living life all over again, and he is, he’s going to do things right and show off his genderfluidity all he wants whether or not people like it thank you very much. 

It wasn’t like it was annoying to always have to present as male before, Loki honestly doesn’t mind that, it’s just that sometimes he wouldn’t really feel it, and he was fine without expressing that, really, but to be able to outwardly do so? Not having to deal with the dull ache in his chest when he’d feel more female and have to just deal with being stuck in a box like that? Not that it was a huge issue or anything but having someone use the correct pronouns? 

That would be... nice. 

It’d also be so, so _fun_. 

He’d finally be able to get dressed up and roam around somewhere that wasn’t his own room, not to mention it could reduce stigma surrounding magic and his use of daggers which could help him with Asgard’s general state of lousiness… 

But for this to work he needs Thor at the very least to vouch for him. 

Okay, not _needs_ , but Loki would _like_ some support every now and then and hopes he can get it regularly since he’s pretty sure he’s going into shock right now because _Thor just accepted he would have to call him Sister sometimes_ and it’s not perfect but it’s a _start,_ and that’s far, far more than he got for trying to reveal the little gender fun fact about himself the last time around.

 _What could’ve possibly changed between now and then_ is a question that flashes through his mind as he opens the door to the Cloth Room but Loki dismisses it. It does not matter what was different the last time around because it won't happen now. Also, thinking about the two timelines hurts his head. 

Is it even two separate timelines or does that future still exist somewhere? _No,_ Loki tells himself, _no more thinking about the future-past_. And to be fair, it doesn’t really matter what the case is if he plans on staying here anyways.

“Are we even allowed in here?”

“This realm has two princes and I’m pretty sure we’re allowed everywhere except Fathers study,” Loki informs as he walks past the sewing and cotton spinning equipment to stare at the labeled storage cabinets. “Not that I understand why anyone would be interested in going into Fathers’ study; that place smells of mothballs.”

_Dyed leather dyed leather dyed leather, ah! There it is._

He pulls open the section marked ‘Dye Leather Work’ and rifles through the contents. 

_Now to look for black, as I only work in shades of black, or very very dark green._

Luckily, black is a commonly thrown aside colour for leather (because a majority of Asgard has no style) so Loki finds quite a lot of it scrapped and is able to be picky about which pieces he’ll take. 

The specific shade of green he needs will have to be custom dyed as usual though so he just takes some soaked/bleached leather to work on later.

“How do you, ah, know what Fathers’ study smells like?” Thor asks, clearly distressed at being in a room filled with womanly tailoring supplies but doing a decent job of covering it up.

Huh? Oh. _Whoops_. Quick! Make up an excuse that doesn’t give up the fact you pretended to be Odin and therefore were using his office the past few years except you also didn’t do that because that actually happened more than half a millennium in the future. “Well, we’re not teeeeechnically barred from his study by law, it’s more like a vague guideline in general manners…”

Thor’s eyes widen comically at that, and Loki can not understand why. Was it the revelation that it wasn’t actually treasonous to knock on Odin’s door? That Loki stretches words for emphasis now? That there was a guideline book for general manners? 

“You—” Thor grabs Loki’s shoulders and shakes him—“went into Father’s study?!”

A bit of a dramatic response if Loki can say so, which he can, because _this_ Thor won’t tell him to shut his mouth or know his place if he does. “Oh, don’t be so _dramatic—_ ”

“—and you _didn’t take me with you?!_ ” 

Well.

Well, well well.

 _T_ _hat_ wasn’t what Loki had expected. Honestly this Thor is far more fun than he remembers. Or maybe he just thinks that because the last time around he’d been trying not to step out of line and paint within the confines of being a good son. Ha! He’s not planning to keep _either_ part of _that_ true this time around. 

_By the everloving will of the everloving norns what on Earth had I been thinking trying to live up to standards and expectations that not even Thor cares for,_ Loki thinks. Then he remembers that Midgard hasn’t been named Earth yet and can’t hold back a smile. 

“I’ll... take you with me next time?” Loki reasons, slipping out of Thor’s grip on his shoulders. 

He tries not to think of how easily he’s fallen back on not minding being casually touched by him. 

“Aye, if I find out you’ve been adventuring into the dark recesses of the AllFather’s private study without me by your side I will have no choice but to slay you where you stand, Brother,” Thor jokes. 

And you know what? Loki finds that funny and doesn’t mind laughing along. If only Thor knew...

He throws the armfuls of leather scraps into a pocket dimension for later and grabs Thor’s sleeve, pulling him towards the door they entered from, because they’re both prooooobably late for morning training by now.

If Thor stares a moment too long at Loki’s now-empty arms Loki doesn’t mention it. His sleeves, after all, _are_ extremely fashionable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual reminder that having an antagonist that Loki had exiled to Earth before because he was bored would be too easy, and when is Loki's life ever easy. 
> 
> [enter SEXISM] 
> 
> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, leave suggestions for what mischief Loki should get up to when he isn't battling Asgard's thoughts, give general feedback on Loki, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself.


	5. CreepyPasta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loki like spoghetti and bolognise likes loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there. Again. Tis I. Now with a beta who likes to point out my lack of commas. (@stellophia on tumblr/ao3)
> 
> Warning that this chapter jumps POVs a lot but I'm working on doing that less in the future I promise. 
> 
> Just a quick note: it's pretty much accepted that at 16 you're a legal semi-adult who can drink and consent, but you don't gain full adult™ legal rights till 18. Loki is *almost* 16 and Thor is almost 17 at this point. Don't ask why or how. 
> 
> Warning for mildly descriptive sexual implications in this chapter. Basically just objectification, but if it ain't for you feel free to skip the chapter and read the summary in the end notes. This fic (most likely) isn't going to get any more graphic or descriptive than what's in this chapter though. :)
> 
> Feel free to point out any errors, and as always, I hope you enjoy.

“Neither of us have our armour!” 

_Wait, so that’s what this is about? Seriously? Thor has been incessantly pestering me for the past minute because I haven’t been using magic openly enough?_

_That’s… actually, that’s a fair point,_ the logical half of him concedes.

 _THOR just made a fair point,_ the other, more emotional half of him screams. _Quick! Someone note the date and time!_

_Or don’t, since we’re still late for training._

Loki keeps pulling on Thor’s sleeve and instead of dignifying his valid argument with a rebuttal, he discreetly swipes his free hand to the right to summon Thor’s over armour and his own. 

Thor yelps, perhaps because of the sudden extra weight which appeared on him, but more likely because Loki just used magic for something other than an illusion in battle or as a prank. 

Ah _yes_ , he’s back in the _good old days_ , when he’d spent his free time having to teach himself magical theory by reading up on advanced-level work and _guessing_ everything that should’ve come before because he could never find anything that taught it starting at a beginner’s level because the local School of Magic has a strict ban on anyone Not Female because Asgard is sexist and no man should dare to breathe in the direction of such a Womanly Art lest they spontaneously convert into one and lose their supreme macho-man machismo. Oh! The horror!

Unless you’re the AllFather, or a magic GateKeeper, of course. _Then_ it’s acceptable and perfectly fine to have magic. _Then_ it’s not an immensely controversial topic. _Then_ you can remind everyone of your ability to do something they can’t all the time. 

It’s nonsensical! And the worst part is that no one finds any of it the slightest bit hypocritical! At all! 

Over a thousand years spent living here and Loki honestly still has no clue why magic is seen as such a taboo thing for men on Asgard. Sure, innate magic is a common gift in Aesir women, but most people never end up with enough of it to need to learn how to use it properly anyway. Just because basically no Aesir men are born with magic (really, he should’ve known) shouldn’t make it an inherently bad thing to be born with, that’s just _weird_. 

It would be like condemning people for other things they were born with and have no control over, like their race or gender or sexuality or build or hair colour, for instance. 

Oh, wait.

So, anyway, Thor doesn’t complain about having his armour put on with magic, but he also doesn’t thank Loki for saving him the time it would’ve taken to get all the metal clasps and buckles on, so Loki assumes he’s speechless in awe and will get over it. 

He doesn’t _need_ Thor’s approval, as much as it’d be nice to have it. He’s over that. 

They reach the small door leading outside to the grounds and Loki lifts the hand not occupied with dragging Thor to push it open, only to have his eyesight get attacked by how bright the sun is.

It takes him a few seconds of blinking to recover, and he doesn’t yell “AAAARGH MY EYES!!!” like Thor does, so as they follow the stone path down to the dirt ground, hand in hand, Loki counts it as a win, so _of course he’s smiling._

He’s got everything in the world to smile about because here he is back in a time where everything is just calm and normal and he can enjoy the little things like the way Thor values what he says and cares about his opinions. But more importantly, he’s here on his own to live life without caring about anyone’s judgement because he is _done_ with _other people_ deciding what is acceptable and what isn’t and what he is _worth_. 

So yes, he’s smiling. What about it?

“What are you smiling about?” Sir Genelta inquires, stepping out from behind the weapons rack - like a stereotypical cartoon villain - when they finally reach the huge barren dirt patch by a minor canal path that they use as a Training Ground. 

Loki decides that for such an inane question this man does _not_ spark joy. 

_‘What are you smiling about?’ What is he, the smile police? What a tool. He should get a real job._

Looking him over, Loki can't say he is any more impressed by his appearance than his unsparkful attitude. Genelta has the average tanned skin and square-ish features of the Aesir and his most prominent feature is still, in Loki's opinion, his ruddy brown hair.

_Did this man even brush his hair?! It looks like he stepped out of bed with a muddy birds nest!_

Genelta’s brown mop of hair actually reminds Loki of squashed meatballs. Which reminds him of pasta.

 _Wait, has pasta even been invented?_ _Does this mean I'll have to wait half a millennia to ever taste a decent bowl of fettuccine again?!_

To distract himself from such a heartbreaking thought, Loki looks around and sees Sif and the Warriors Three are already here, standing in a line, doing their stretches some distance away. 

No, wait, not _Sif_ and the Warriors Three, that’s right, she trained with them as the golden-haired _Sof_ until her ‘great reveal’ of actually being a woman when she received her qualification certificate in the bimillennial celebration. 

Not that Loki had been surprised by the female thing; he’d actually gotten her armour commissioned to show his support of her when he’d suspected she was about to reveal herself. Not that she’d thanked him for it. 

He’s always firmly believed the rule about women being unable to train as warriors is _utter garbage._

Aesir women, like every other major species in the Nine, are equally capable in a fight to the men _when trained correctly_ , and there aren’t many other races out there physically superior to the Aesir _anyway_ . And that’s without mentioning _the legendary Valkyrie_ which were comprised solely of women and were certainly a force greater than all the men in Asgard’s army today if anything he’s ever heard about them is to be believed. 

And Loki is pretty sure those stories about the Valkyrie are _still_ under-exaggerated. (Because Asgard just _loves_ to vilify achievements not manly enough in nature, as he of all people Norns-well knows.)

Hogun, Thor, and Sif’s graduation had been the same day she’d first accused him of being a liar if he correctly recalls. 

If he correctly recalls, it had also been that same day of celebration when Odin had first started to imply Thor better consider courting, which was really funny because Thor had started choking on his celebratory mead and Loki had spent the rest of the night smiling about it, even when Thor had told him he should stop joining him and his friends in their revelry since he still had five hundred years till he would gain his own qualifications. 

Which was ironic because not being graduates had never stopped them from going off on adventuring tangents together _before_ , nor had it stopped Thor from coming to him for help _on every quest after,_ especially when the Idiots 4 started to tag along. 

Yeah, Loki’s not going to even _try_ to get chummy with The Warriors Three this time around since the Realm Stagnant is a bad enough environment for him already; he’ll still support Sif becoming a shield maiden but without commissioning her the armour since she didn’t even say thank you for it the last time around, which had been very rude of her. 

Luckily, Thor doesn’t properly start befriending them until they graduate, which means he’s got about a century before he even needs to think about _that_ happening. 

“Where is Sir Traibar?” Thor asks in response, concern for their normal trainer evident in his voice. 

Genelta turns his gaze upon the middle distance, rustling his bolognese-mince hair, and answers in what is possibly the most ominous voice ever, “The AllFather has assigned me to take over your lessons for the time being.” 

_This must be my punishment for misbehaving yesterday,_ Loki thinks, recalling how it’d taken supervising only one lesson to decide to fire General Genelta when he was acting as Odin. There was something which seemed off about the well-renowned man to Loki and his unconventional teaching methods which were very, ahem, _hands-on_.

Which is conveniently ironic because Loki is pretty sure Odin never cared enough about him to learn that he doesn’t exactly appreciate being touched by random people… and he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to stand this guy correcting his fight form by grabbing his arms or legs. 

_Wait, I don’t need to stand for anything, I’m allowed to use my magic. Heh._

Coming to the conclusion that Genelta isn’t even a General yet, Loki’s decided this little ‘punishment’ from Odin is going to have no effect on him. Maybe even an adverse effect.

Maybe he could try and get him fired for any weird remarks or behaviour? Surely he could coax a few of those out of him as a valid reason? 

Loki doesn’t remember Genelta doing anything that stood out when he’d been acting as Odin, other than prodding at the poor trainees that’d had their elbows too low by an inch or that had their feet too close together; but, as King, he hadn’t _needed_ to give a proper reason to kick the guy out.

_My form is always perfect so there is no reason he’d try to correct me, anyway._

That puts him in an even better mood than before, and Loki decides it would be best to skip the talking and just start training. Not that he particularly enjoys training, but it’s necessary to stay in shape and leg day is extra important and— nah, Loki just misses getting to spar with Thor and watch him struggle with technique (and maybe he looks forward to messing with Mr Genelta by getting him fired because he doesn’t think anyone, even a trainer, should go around touching people without asking, that’s even ruder than not thanking someone for getting custom-made armour commissioned to them after they managed to guess your dimensions perfectly despite you always wearing extra bulky armour to cover up.)

“I am sure you will be a very adequate teacher, Sir Genelta,” Loki lets go of Thor’s hand as he addresses him, giving a little bow for effect in the process, “very... fully-functioning.”

Sir Genelta eyes Loki suspiciously. 

He knows Loki is the quieter and has been dubbed the more mannered prince in comparison to Thor, but Genelta had been in attendance in the Council Meeting yesterday and not only had the lad been adequately loud in smashing the palace doors open but he’d also been clear-cuttedly outspoken in defending his flauntation of his femininity with using and mentioning magic. 

And he had done that openly, too! As if having magic in the first place wasn’t travesty enough! And all that without going into the more sensitive sexual implications… 

He nods in acknowledgement of Loki’s praise. 

As long as the young man stays formal and does the exercises he asks, there shouldn’t be any problems. Besides, the AllFather himself has explicitly said that any means of punishment is acceptable, and left the variety of drills and exercises up to him to set as he sees fit, which means it is perfectly acceptable to run the dainty boy ragged. 

He tells them to start on their stretches and watches the brothers walk towards the other four in this class. 

Those others are all of noble family rank, of course, or they wouldn’t have been given permission to share in these training sessions, but he hasn’t bothered to remember their names since they aren’t royalty and he doesn’t think they would mind if he referred to them by colour since they already seemed to colour code themselves anyways, with two even declaring personal fealty to the Princes with their green and red under armour leathers.

Speaking of which, Genelta looks over to the two princes who have begun to do the standard arm-to-leg stretches and finds himself reminded of the stark differences between them.

While Thor is built like a proper alehouse of manhood Loki has far more delicate, rounded shoulders, and despite the best attempts of his metal sleeve plates to square them up, Genelta finds his attention going to the young man’s lithe arms as he follows Thor in a bend, imagining his body would be softer under the metal shoulder pads that shift slightly with each stretch he does, slipping and highlighting that he’s narrower where Thor is broad and strong. 

Genelta finds himself drawn to watching the stretch of the younger’s body as he follows Thor into another bend and appreciates that while clearly not as built up as Thor, Loki possesses a certain grace with what is sure to be leaner trained muscle under the solid metallic armour, which is a trait that certainly complements his sharp but softer facial features. 

Perhaps, with the coming years, Loki will fill out the way his brother has, presenting the perfect image of a warrior? While Thor surely attracts many a lady with his strong chest and significant height, Loki has a certain charismatic charm that has its own pull. 

As he smiles at Thor when the older cannot achieve the same stretch he did, his supple lips pull into an easy smirk and his striking green eyes remind Genelta that he probably shouldn’t be eyeing the young man's bright and seemingly chiselled-out-of-marble cheekbones or noting the way they bring out the sharp cut of his narrow jawline as he laughs freely. 

Currently, the younger walks around his brother, prodding him to encourage trying the stretch he was unable to complete, and Genelta watches the movement of his fauld plates carefully to catch the indication of narrow but feminine hips in the way he sways and can't help but compare the walk to the lady he had been with nights ago who had walked with similar fashion. 

Genelta turns his attention towards the other four trainees and finds them conversing, having already completed their stretches; he must have been _distracted_ when that had happened.

He tells them to go pick out their weapons off the rack to prepare for form practice. 

Seeing the others getting their weapons, Thor gives up on the final stretch and runs for the rack too. 

_Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he,_ Loki thinks, sighing and heading towards the rack himself. 

Thor didn’t even finish the stretches; Thor _never_ finishes the stretches. 

To be fair though, Thor’s never _needed_ them since his fight strategy was literally always to ram straight into his opponent, and interestingly enough he’s always had the strength for that to work decently enough (until Kurse, but that’s in the future-past now and Loki is trying not to remember that), so it's not a huge issue that he isn’t as flexible as himself, but Loki finds it incredibly funny to watch him struggle to get his fingers anywhere near his toes, so he’s annoyed Thor’s given up already.

Thor reaches the weaponry rack while Loki is still making his way there, giving Loki plenty of time to contemplate how hideous and clunky his current overarmour is. He can’t believe he used to wear his leathers _and_ underarmour _and_ a layer of chainmail _and_ a layer of solid metal over his chest. 

Would it be strange if he decided to take off the three extra layers? 

He doesn’t really need the extra weight unless he wants to work on his stamina, but his endurance has always been way way more than Thor’s anyway (thanks to having to work twice as hard as Thor to get a proper fight style and technique set up for himself that didn’t involve ‘swinging at every opponent’ as the only step), and it’s not like he needs the extra protection since the way he fights namely involves _not getting hit_ and that means he doesn’t need the extra clunk. 

Loki looks up from the hideously grey chain mail sleeves that he still can’t believe he’s actually willingly wearing for the sake of getting the full reliving-life experience and he notices everyone else has already chosen their swords. 

Hah, _swords_ , Loki remembers having to use _those_. 

It was horrible, namely because Asgardian metalcrafters can’t balance a sword correctly for their lives, but also because Loki had started practising with knives when he was a kid (because daggers just look way cooler and he’d learnt Frigga used daggers so he’d thought that made them twice as cool) and every single how-to book on those ever is proof that blades of different lengths are used differently. 

He looks over the rack at the array of standard weapons. There are only a few standard sword types used on Asgard so he notices pretty quick that amongst the maces and spears and rapiers and battle-axes there aren’t any of his knives. 

“Where are the daggers?” 

Everyone stops brandishing their lousy Asgardian metalwork to look at him.

“Daggers?”

“What daggers?”

“Did you say _daggers?_ ”

“Loki just asked for… knives?”

“Brother?”

 _I’ve always used daggers, even if they started off as secondary spare blades so why is everyone looking at me weird?_ Loki wonders, looking over the Warrior 4’s faces and noting everyone including Genelta has their jaw practically on the ground in shock. 

Well, at least Thor is only slightly concerned. But still, why?

_WAIT._

_Does this mean I haven’t started using knives openly yet?! But I’ve always used them! Everyone KNOWS I use them! Did wanting this acknowledged the last time around end in a fuss too or did I not notice because I started talking about it once I graduated? Does this mean I have another half millennia which I have to train with a SWORD for?!_

_No. Nope. Nopity nope. NO!_

Who cares if the good old days means the _good old_ good old days, Loki vehemently _refuses_ to go back to _swords;_ especially these horrible rapiers and hideous longswords and monstrously balanced broadswords and terrible shortswords.

Genelta laughs nervously, “My prince, you know as well as I that knives are not proper weapons for a warrior—”

“—the queen uses daggers,” Loki argues. 

It’s a surprisingly easy argument to make all things considered. He’s had to face centuries of people using the same old arguments already, plus, they’re still _blades,_ in fact, they’re still _very sharp,_ so _of course_ they can be used in battle. “Are you implying the queen cannot defend herself?”

Genelta sputters. “Of course not! I’m sure as a woman on Vanaheim in her time it would’ve been appropriate that she learn how to use something such as knives and perhaps she has the expertise to wield them but they remain a coward's weapon—”

“You just called the queen a coward!”

“I did not!”

“You did!” Loki turns to Thor who is failing to hide a smile at his brother's antics. Thor is always one to rely on in times of problem-causing, and he enjoys seeing what Loki comes up with next, making him a reliable improviser, if you’re obvious enough about twisting the truth. “Did you hear, Brother?”

“Aye Loki, I did too hear his words! Sir Genelta calls Mother a coward!” 

“And he implied she was _old,_ too!” 

“The vilest snake pit of lies clearly resides within his mind.”

“They’re probably all old cowardly snakes, too—” 

“ENOUGH!” Genelta resorts to the voice he uses for Commanding as a General-in-Training to end this mocking tirade of his person. “LINE UP AND AT EASE!”

Loki shrugs and lets the issue drop. The man is still technically his trainer so some respect is warranted. For now. 

Loki turns away to grab a short-sword, which, unbeknownst to him, allows Genelta to admire the way the leather under his metal thigh-plates tightens in the movement. 

While staring at his legs Genelta misses the massive eye-roll Loki does upon realising that he’s going to have to fight for his right to train with a weapon _everyone already knows he uses on his outings with Thor_ but no one thinks counts as an actual weapon _despite all proof to the contrary_. 

What utter poppycock.

He looks down at the short-sword he’s picked because it has fancy golden embellishments around the hilt. 

_This’ll work for now,_ he thinks, as he heads towards Thor and joins the end of the lineup, as far from Sof and the Imbeciles 3 as possible. 

Thor and Loki stand in line with the other four students, but with a gap far enough from them so it is made abundantly clear that they are not planning on interacting with them. After all, their training sessions only involve individual practice, and on occasion, sparring in pairs. 

No need to speak to strangers for fun. 

Stranger danger and all that.

Thor looks at Loki who is swinging his short sword around; happily adjusting to the length and balance, Thor would think. 

He hadn’t expected Loki to suggest using his daggers in training because of the ridicule he would face, but he really is proud that Loki has even brought up the topic, after all, he does ridiculously excel in their use, especially in _throwing_ them. 

Thor has _seen_ Loki in a fight and if Loki can manage more than well with such small blades then he certainly believes it to be another feat of his remarkable brother, although he understands everyone else’s shock. (Or would knifework be a feat of a sister? Either way, Thor is proud.)

Loki is less skilled with a sword than Thor, but he makes up for it with a tenacity that has never quite managed to land him a winning streak when sparring with him but it isn’t as if Thor isn’t stronger than the average Aesir, so the advantage to Thor doesn’t say anything bad about Loki’s ability, really. 

Thor looks to where the other four in their class stand. Volstagg and Hogun he has spoken to on occasions such as yesterday where Loki has been absent and he required a partner, but while he has never had any remarkable conversation with Sof or Fandral he takes the time to note that even they have weapons they have made clear they are comfortable with. 

Volstagg’s battle-axe has a long handle he has customised with a grip long ago, marking ownership of the weapon; Fandral’s rapier bears his initials and he always has a handkerchief to keep the handle shiny so he may admire himself mid-battle; Sof had his double-bladed sword adjusted many years earlier so it could transform into a staff for a longer range weapon when desired; Hogun had a chain inserted into the handle of his mace so it could function as a flail as was his preference; even Thor’s longsword had a leather grip in his colours. 

Was it really so shocking that Loki would wish to train with his own choice of weapon as well? To not have to change around which weapon he uses every few days because none of the options here suit him? 

Thor huffs to himself. Loki is always making his own options, and it’s wonderfully Loki of him. 

Thor had never thought Loki would desire to don a female form and yet just this morning he had earnestly sought permission for such a thing! And then his marvellous brother had proven his ability to dabble in womanly arts through competently rummaging through fabrics! 

If Loki wished to no longer have to practice with his daggers in his rooms then Thor does not understand the harm, after all, it is well known that Loki is a competent knife fighter as Thor has been sure to boast of his skill with them on many an occasion at the weekly feasts. 

Besides, it is true that Mother herself was once trained in the art of using daggers (a fact that Loki loves to bring up and has been unsuccessfully trying to get her to demonstrate since he was but a child). 

Maybe Brother could shapeshift to get rid of the arguments of knives being a womanly weapon - that seems like the kind of thing Brother would do, and his earlier admittance that he would not be shamed by taking a female form simply makes it more likely. 

Sir Genelta stands some distance away, his feet firmly planted, his career goal to become a General clear in his rigid stance. 

“AT ATTENTION!” he barks, and Thor lifts his long sword in front of him, placing his right foot slightly back while ensuring his body remains facing forward. 

He looks towards Loki to find him standing identically with his shortsword held out. 

“THOR! FEET APART!” 

Very well, so Loki was standing _nearly_ identical to him. Thor pushes his foot further back and tries his best not to fall over. 

Genelta walks over to him and uses a foot to push Thor’s even further back.

Loki lets out a quiet cough and Thor glares at him. Very well, if that’s how it is.

“PARRY RIGHT!” 

Thor steps back with his right foot, bringing the handle of his sword down while keeping the tip up, into parry position. 

“THOR! TURN YOUR BLADE MORE!”

Genelta twists Thor’s wrist outwards so the blade is at an angle.

Loki lets out another quiet cough. 

“DRAG!”

Thor is about to step out with his right when he catches Loki going in the other direction and steps out with his left foot instead. 

“DOWN STRIKE!”

“BROWN! SHIFT SLOWER!”

“PARRY LEFT!”

“RED! BLADE TIP HIGHER!” 

“LIFT!”

“GREEN! WRONG WAY!”

“PARRY RIGHT!”

“THOR! ELBOW IN!”

Well, it’s not like your opponent _tells you_ what move you should do beforehand in an actual bout, so Thor isn’t really concerned about making mistakes here. (Although he finds Sir correcting the pose to be really helpful).

He _is_ rather proud that Loki’s form is perfect as always, even if Thor doesn’t get the chance to cough-laugh at Loki in return, and even though Thor is aware Loki’s _actual_ battle stance is far wider than what he is using here to ensure his form is perfect.

Far, _far_ wider. 

Loki’s natural fight stance is almost ludicrously wide to the point where he tries to cover up for it by moving around a lot. 

Thor _knows_ , though. 

It’s a subject of regular amusement when he teases Loki about it and his face gets heated trying to defend himself with excuses of “agility” and “balance” that Thor simply refuses to acknowledge. 

Thor also marvels at Loki’s ability to move near as fast in full armour as he does when only in his leathers. Perhaps there is magic involved? Considering Loki’s recent reveal about wishing to explore his female form it is entirely possible he could be using magic to strengthen himself… not that Thor thinks Loki would use magic in such a common way, but after watching Loki so passionately selecting leather pieces a mere half hour ago he is less sure what else his brother would do against convention. 

Thor is not even sure if Loki’s declaration was him expressing the wish to wear dresses or use his magic more openly or just a desire to gain breasts (after all, Loki _is_ on the cusp of coming into manhood), but he hopes Loki knows he has his full support. 

"WATER BREAK!"

Thor drops his sword to the ground to mark his place and turns to Loki who is… sipping on a chilled glass of water with a… tiny coloured umbrella?

“Uh, _what?_ ” Thor says, distracted by the strangely hypnotic pull of the miniature bright green paper umbrella with a flower print. 

Loki stops drinking. “Hm?”

“Did you… you know—” Thor puts his hand in the air and wiggles his fingers, managing to indicate Loki’s hand-wavy-magic-thing while continuing to make eye contact with the small umbrella which is clearly the star attraction of the drink.

“Obviously,” Loki rolls his eyes, “I don’t exactly carry a cold glass of water in my back pocket, namely because these useless sheets of metal armour _don’t have any._ ”

Thor continues making heart eyes at the diminutive drink umbrella until Loki sighs and does the wriggle-finger-magic-wave thingy and materialises a glass of cold water for him too… With! A! Matching! Red! Baby! Umbrella! With! Tiny! Flowers! Printed! On!!!

Needless to say, Thor rushes in for a hug (Loki nearly drops the water when he does that) before chugging the glass and passing it back to Loki. 

Loki laughs when Thor puts the umbrella behind his ear but doesn’t comment on it. 

Thor loves that about his brother; he just accepts things and rolls with it, even if the thing happens to be a rather unmanly fondness for collecting itty-bittily scaled-down everyday objects. 

In fact, Loki has even helped him expand his collection on numerous past occasions despite the rewards for some quests not being the most glorious prizes. (You can pry Thor’s pocket-sized ship replicas from his cold dead hands).

“LINE UP!” Genelta yells, and Thor and Loki return to their positions in line, with Thor ruffling the younger’s hair and saying what Genelta is pretty sure is a ‘thank you’ before picking up his sword from a few metres away and returning to his brother. 

Genelta will have to look into that… even if Loki is clearly the weaker of the two, pairing him up with Thor all the time could potentially harm his self-image even if a sword isn’t his usual weapon, and Genelta would _absolutely hate_ for that to be the case for someone as captivating as Loki… and it would mean that the elder prince who has favour with the AllFather can keep a constant eye on his brother where the other students wouldn’t and that could be a bit inconvenient to Genelta’s own desire to admire a certain Prince unnoticed… he would have to think on this further...

“This next exercise will be done in groups, just like your afternoon session will be, so get into pairs.” 

Naturally, Thor and Loki pair up. 

How bothersome. 

Genelta sighs and asks the students in Red and Blue to stand within the designated round space marked in white chalk and begin a match. One-on-one matches with three rounds are a common practice exercise that Genelta has supervised many a time, and yet he finds his attention being drawn away and to the princes conversing instead of silently observing the match.

“LOKI!” Genelta bellows when he manages to miss Red being thrown to the ground because his eyes were glued to Loki’s enrapturing hand gesticulating, “STOP TALKING TO THOR! GIVE ME TWENTY LAPS!” 

_Twenty?!_ Thor thinks in horror, _Sir Traibar never gives more than five!_

When Loki just shrugs and puts his sword down to start the first lap Thor starts to feel his blood heating. _Who does Genelta think he is commanding Loki to run laps for simply speaking? No one should have their voice taken from them! Especially not foolish sixteen-year-olds who just wanted to talk about how “wonderful” human ingenuity is with its unique_ _whozits and whatzits_ _! Especially when such trinkets include the idea of miniature umbrellas!_

Thor isn’t sure how many more rounds Sof and Hogun have left but Sof is starting to up his effort because Hogun is getting beat, but Thor still notices when Loki runs past after completing one lap. 

Thor thinks about how excited Loki had looked waiting for their own turn to spar, how Loki had been practically bouncing around on the spot, and yes, he’s definitely considering running their temporary trainer through with his longsword. 

“So,”—Thor whips his head to the source when he hears Loki’s voice— “papaya,”

Thor looks towards Genelta, then to the Loki running laps, and then back to the Loki standing next to him. 

He’s about to ask _how_ when Loki lifts a hand and wriggles his fingers. 

“Magic,” he says, and Thor eyes Genelta again and stifles a laugh as Sir’s head is indeed following the Loki running laps within his line of sight. 

“Also,” Loki continues, “he’s an idiot.”

Thor fails to hold back a thunderous laugh at that, and although Genelta gives him a venomous glare for being disruptive it is clear he does not see Loki standing here right next to Thor. 

Thor pats Loki’s shoulder plate and nods, “I agree with you there. Brother?”

“Yes?” 

“You are my brother right now, yes?”

Loki snickers, “Do I _look_ like a woman, Thor?”

“Well, uh, I don’t, um, I wouldn’t, ah, exactly _know_ because of the, ahh, armour, and you _are_ using magic and I haven’t seen you before, and we haven’t fought yet, so I—”

Sof finishes pummeling Hogun into the dirt and Loki takes a moment to appreciate the layers of irony here. 

“Are you saying I’m a woman because I’m using magic? Or that I wouldn’t be able to fight as one without magic?” Loki asks, “Because I used magic to get the armour on us and make water appear too and you didn’t ask…”

“But those were for a purpose.”

Loki, for one, is baffled by this response. Thor thinks… getting him dressed quicker… and obtaining cold water for him... is a valid reason to use magic… but not saving yourself from _twenty laps?!_

“Thor, I don’t know how to tell you this, but magic doesn’t need a purpose, and doing it for fun is perfectly okay too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That makes much sense.”

“Just so you know, I’m expecting an apology,”

“For my lack of magical knowledge?”

“For you staring at my chestplate weirdly, _Brother_.”

“I haven’t even _seen_ your female form!”

“And for good reason, apparently!” Loki huffs.

Thor drops to one knee and puts his hand over his chest in a formal bow, “I sincerely apologise for my misconduct, fair maiden.”

Loki rolls his eyes but smiles fondly at Thor while doing so. 

To his credit Thor even accepts the hand he holds out and kisses the back of it, and Loki had already forgiven him when he _actually started seriously apologising_ \- even if it was a bit overboard in the dramatics department - because _the old Thor would never have admitted any fault in what he’d said in anything let alone for being sexist_.

Yeah, Loki is not going to think about that. Topic change!

“Speaking of misconduct, I’m trying to get Genelta fired for something along those lines because I’ve decided I don’t like him…”

“I have decided I do not like him much either,”

“Wonderful!” 

Loki and Thor speak for a while on the rules around filing official complaints about governing military officials, and some time later Genelta, and his unruly and surely meat-based hair, rudely butts into their conversation.

“THOR! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” 

To be fair, Thor thinks he must look quite strange since he has spent the entirety of the last few matches on the ground kneeling to nothing and talking to nothing and holding nothing in his hand which he’d kissed and just been holding for the sake of holding nothing. 

“Nothing, Sir!”

Behind the safety of invisibility, Brother puts a hand over his heart. “Do I truly mean so little to you?”

Thor ignores Loki while Genelta eyes him suspiciously for a moment before going back to supervising Volstagg and Fandrals final battle, but he’s actually mostly allotting his time to marvel at how Loki is on his seventeenth lap and hasn’t even started slowing down. 

Genelta is awestruck by the young man’s stamina, after all, this dirt ground doesn’t exactly have a small perimeter and his thighs are still lifting just as high as in his first lap under all the leather and cuisse armour plates. 

Genelta turns his attention back to the match and notes that Fandral is not applying proper technique in _any_ part of whatever it is that he’s doing while dodging Volstagg’s axe swings.

He’s just jumping side to side and dodging like a lunatic. 

Hmm. Perhaps a rapier isn’t the best choice of weapon against a weighty battle-axe and Asgard should look at making sure its warriors can specialise in more than a singular weapon. Maybe Asgard should also look at getting its soldiers some blasters or lasers too, considering the technology exists here. Hmm.

Fandral’s heel lands out of the circular ring as he dodges a horizontal axe swipe and that’s three matches done for this pair as well. 

He tells them to get a drink and then come to watch the next match with the Princes.

Loki is finishing up his twentieth lap and is making his way to Thor when Genelta catches his eye and indicates it’s their turn to fight.

Oh _yes_ , Genelta is looking forward to Thor and Loki facing off. 

Genelta has been considering… even if Loki is clearly the weaker of the two, pitting him up with Thor could harm his self-image… and Genelta would _absolutely hate_ for him to be feeling inferior or lesser… and it would be a definite harsh blow if the loss was made worse by twenty or so laps of extra energy usage… and the best-case scenario to fix such a collapse of confidence would, of course, be to separate them by breaking up their group pairing even if it means Loki needs to take extra classes with him to try and catch up to Thor’s level…

Not that Genelta is doubting the second Prince! No! Loki’s definitely got the more feminine genes of the Princes, which certainly explains his _walk_ for instance, but he’s heard the man can hold his own against many a beast if Thor’s tall tales are any indication of his skill. Which is why Genelta had to ensure the loss of the match by tiring him out beforehand. 

The fact that his eyes keep being drawn to his hips to try and figure out what’s going on there is completely unrelated to this goal, but it doesn’t help that it is surely intentional and Genelta is chalking his fascination with the man to him not only having magic but also acting kind and womanly and dressing the part and walking like a woman too which must be what he’s using to make himself so… alluring.

Thor and Loki make their way over with their weapons. 

“Our turn?” 

“Take your places,” Genelta tells them, gesturing to the ring. 

He holds back a wry grin. While Loki’s form had been so perfect he hadn’t found anything to criticise today, losing a battle against his brother would be a sure hit to his esteem and he could totally take advantage of that by helping Loki out with private lessons. 

Brown and Green return from their water break (that’s a real conveniently closely placed canal) and take seats by Red and Blue who are still sweating from their match. 

The brothers take up positions at opposite ends of the ring and hold up their weapons in base position. Loki puts two fingers to his forehead in a salute.

“Good luck, Brother. You’ll be needing it.”

 _Feeling confident today, eh?_ Thor thinks, before realising _no, he’s just been really happy today._

It’s a definite improvement to yesterday. Thor is glad Loki trusted him enough to speak on the female matter, and he’s so proud that he brought up the knife issue, even if it was unexpected because Loki knows that daggers could never be taken seriously as a man’s weapon. 

“I’m sure I will, Brother,” Thor replies, sending Loki an exaggerated wink.

Loki smiles, but Thor can tell it wasn’t because of the wink; no, this is his mischief smile. Which means that he’s just put on his scheming face. Which means he’s up to something, and for a second Thor feels terror because Loki has the power of magic and shortswords on his side; and even if the shortsword is twice as long as the knives Loki regularly uses, it's the closest weapon they have on the rack to his daggers and that smile cannot possibly mean anything good for Thor because if there’s one thing Loki can do it’s adapt and now Thor is actually wondering if he should walk out while he can and— 

“BEGIN.” 

Loki’s smile widens and he lifts the sword, which doesn’t make sense because _he’s too far out of range to hit me by swinging down_ and then Thor has an epiphany in that fifth of a second and _Odin save me he’s about to throw a sword at my head_.

And then Loki smashes his shortsword on the ground, shattering it clean in half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Loki and Thor go to morning training where Sir Genelta is taking over for their usual trainer. Their class has Sof (Sif disguised as a man because sexism) Hogun Fandral Volstagg Loki and Thor and he keeps creeping on Loki by staring at him while he does warm up stretches with everyone else. They all do form practice and Sir Genelta physically corrects poses with his hands and feet and even though he doesn't touch anyone weird Loki just doesn't like the fact that the guy touches people. Loki gets punished for talking when he shouldn't be (1v1 matches and he was meant to be spectating quietly like everyone else) and is told to run 20 laps (a ridiculously high amount) which he gets out of by making an illusion look like he's running. Genelta keeps looking at Loki running and we find out his plan was to make Thor and Loki fight and when Loki loses badly (because he isn't allowed to use daggers in training; too girly or some trash) he can offer up private lessons and get some alone time with Loki. Unfortunately when it's Thor and Loki's turn to fight being forced to use a sword (even though loki sucks at using swords) doesn't discourage him or have any effect on his confidence. Additionally, no one suspects Genelta of being a creep, but Thor and Loki both decided they don't like him and want to get him fired so their usual trainer comes back. 
> 
> >:)
> 
> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, leave suggestions for what mischief Loki should get up to when he isn't trying not to think about how there's no fettuccine, give general feedback on Loki, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself.


	6. The Game is Afoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thor vs loki and don't forget that thor isn't the only OG avenger around here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Loads of people decided they liked the tiny umbrella, so it gets main character™ rights now. 
> 
> Enjoy >:D

“You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“You just broke royal training equipment!”

“Yes, while training with it, as is its intended purpose, so what’s the issue here?”

“I’ll have to report the damages to the AllFather!”

“What damages?”

When he whips his head around to face Loki, it pleases Loki to say that Genelta finds the shortsword is back in one piece.

“But you can’t just—”

Loki lifts the sword up and smashes it against the ground blade-edge first, breaking it in half _again_.

“I’m improvising, as one does in a fight if one wants to stay alive.”

Loki runs a hand over the jagged shattered edge of the blade and, heating his hand, he sharpens the hilt edge so that he’s got a semi-decent dagger.

“This is unacCEPTABLEEEEEE!!!!” Genelta screeches at an impossibly high pitch.

Loki ignores him in favour of considering the half of the sword which has broken off. It would be such a shame to waste the rest of a perfectly good albeit badly-weighted blade...

“How dare you vie for such a gutless weapon! For a weapon such that the King himself sees no need to teach to soldiers, let alone _a prince_ of our great realm!”

 _What’ll it take to get the idea that anything can be a weapon through their thick-headed skulls?_ Loki wonders.

He takes a deep breath and reaches for the broken section of blade, calling on his ice magic to form a decent matching hilt. He’d been practicing his natural ice magic while disguised as Odin, but hasn’t yet found a way to use it without shifting to Jotun form and feels like he’s not really ready to make _that_ reveal to everyone here. 

Which is fine.

It’s his right to reveal whatever parts of his identity-crisis inducing trauma he wants when he feels he’s ready to, and it’s not like being surrounded by extremely racist people with weapons is a safe environment anyway, so if he still feels like it’s a private thing, then he’s allowed to hide it. 

_Also, they would likely attack me on sight; well, maybe not Thor, but everyone else would._

And isn’t that a comforting thought. Loki loves a good sprinkle of racism in the morning. 

Loki finishes making the hilt and takes the time to admire it and the fact that he’s not freezing his hand off. As far as he’s been able to tell when he looks Aesir he _is_ Aesir, so the extra resistance he has to cold is indeed a mystery, and one that he is grateful for. 

Now he’s got two functional knives and is still teeeechnically using a shortsword. 

As if there being no pairs of twin daggers on the weapons rack could’ve forced Loki into using a sword. _Hel no!_ He _hates_ swords! 

Can he fight with one that is made well and not three times the weight it should be? Yes! But Loki knows that there ain’t a single thing on the weapons rack that is well-made and doesn’t weigh far more than it should.

He knows this extra personally because he’s had to rotate through using all those weapons before! And they are _not it,_ chief. 

Loki _could_ just pull a few knives out of his pocket dimension, but there’s a 99.99% chance everyone would have an issue with that too, and Loki is in a hurry to end morning training and doesn't feel like doing that if the chances of sparking an argument are the same as a bar of antibacterial soap.

“Knives are simply not capable of the range of uses that a sword or a mace make available! You cannot possibly expect to be treated as an Aesir man with such a feminal weapon!”

 _Please,_ do go on to explain _that_ logic," Loki points at him with a knife. "I _dare_ you.” 

“May we progress with our match?” Thor asks, clearly annoyed that they’ve been unable to spar because of Genelta’s interruption. “I see no fault in Loki’s logic here, and as he does not have his desired weapon available, it’s only fair.”

Loki is touched, really. Thor would… stand up for him? Argue on his side? Even if it means he’s putting himself at a disadvantage in this match and knows it? He even ignored the sexist jibe because he knows Loki wouldn’t find it offensive. 

Thor caring is enough to bring a tear to his eye. Well, metaphorically. Loki figures he deserves some support every now and then. 

Genelta uncrosses his arms and throws his hands into the air. “I guess,”

“Now if you would please get out of the ring, Sir Genelta.”

Genelta gets out of the ring only because it’s Thor who’s asking, but Loki isn’t bothered by that; he’s busy looking forward to absolutely _destroying_ Thor. 

Where Thor always just runs into fights guns blazing, Loki’s always been a stickler for knowing what he’s doing in a fight. And that means he’s always paid far more attention to actual fighting style and technique. Extra years of fighting or not, Loki is confident he can take Thor down easily. He doesn’t even have Mjolnir yet, so he’s comically disadvantaged here. 

Loki stands with two makeshift daggers and Thor stands across him with his longsword. 

“Begin?” 

“Begin.”

Loki lunges at Thor, easily going under his clumsy horizontal swipe when it comes, and bringing the ice hilt down on his wrist. That has no effect; of course it doesn’t — Thor doesn’t have a weak grip.

Which is why when Thor smiles in triumph at Loki’s failed attempt (but successful distraction) Loki returns the smile as he uses the gold embellished hilt to hit his elbow too. 

A funny thing about the nine realms is that despite the varying climates, abilities, and life-spans, the apex species have startlingly similar internal physiology. 

Because of this, Thor has an ulnar nerve just like every other major species in the Nine.

Thor lets go of his longsword and Loki brings a blade up to Thor’s exposed neck, guiding him backwards, and over the edge of the ring.

“What did you _do_ to my arm! It… _tingles_...” 

“Aww, was the tingly wingly too much for you?” Loki bats his eyelashes at Thor innocently.

“MATCH TO LOKI,” Genelta announces. Does he sound disappointed? He sounds disappointed to Loki. Well, that’s too bad. 

He probably fell for the belief that Thor being all jacked up made him stronger or that his own _womanly_ daggers meant he simply had to lay down and lose. Well, joke’s on him, because Thor and he have always been equally matched in strength. And unenchanted and horribly-crafted metal doesn’t even _have_ a gender. 

Thor laughs good-naturedly at the loss (and Loki does his best to ignore comparing that to how spoiled the other Thor had become) and they both retake their starting positions in the ring. 

_Well, that was fun, how should I take him down this round?_

“BEGIN.”

_Maybe I should let him go on the offence this time? He IS at a disadvantage here since I’ve got more fighting experience…_

This round, Thor wastes no time in closing the distance between them and yelling as he lowers his sword to try and cut at him diagonally. Loki admires the effort he’s putting in here, but can’t help laughing as he crosses both knives over to catch the strike from above. 

Thor is just so _so_ precious without Mjolnir. 

He feels bad for laughing because Thor’s clearly trying his best here but his best is just so _cute_. It’s like someone handed the world's clumsiest kitten a switchblade and told them to try their best. 

There’s a reason Loki never questions why _Thor_ gets the enchanted Magical Hammer of Being OP _—_ he has always been very clearly in desperate need of it. Brute strength only gets you so far, but a magical hammer in the trusty hands of a blonde himbo with brute strength gets you significantly further in a fight.

Loki uses the fact that Thor is still trying to push through the crossing knives to twist the sword, giving him the option to keep holding on and be thrown spinning through the air or letting go of the sword. 

He lets go, and the sword clatters to the ground some distance away. 

Thor looks between Loki and his sword and Loki and his sword and his shock morphs into a huge smile. Then the fool tries to go in for a hug and Loki barely gets the daggers out of the way in time to avoid stabbing him. 

Would these daggers be able to stab him? This armour is enchanted for training purposes, so they probably couldn’t, now that he thinks about it (no, Loki doesn’t know why _all_ their armour isn’t _always_ enchanted. Why magic is considered acceptable for magic-ing up protection _for training_ but considered dishonourable to use anywhere near _actual battle_ will always be one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of the universe). 

“Brother! That was astounding!” 

_Wow, Thor, you’re really laying it on thick,_ Loki thinks, and he doesn’t mind Thor’s arms wrapped around him, but he doesn’t like how Thor is rubbing the section of his arm only covered in leather and chainmail. Would asking Thor to stop that be bad? Would it ruin the moment? _Also, we were in the middle of a match, Thor! You can’t just_ _—_

Thor’s arms suddenly tighten, locking him in place and pushing Loki backwards.

They both go down and land on their sides only because Loki manages to hook a foot around Thor’s ankle (thanks to his crazy wide battle stance keeping his feet on the ground for longer #agility #balance) and turn them, but Loki is still caught unaware because _did Thor just try to squash me??_

A Thor that knows Loki cares and cares for Loki in turn, but also has no compunction against playing dirty? Loki literally couldn’t have asked for Thor to have been any better at this point! He knows _the other Thor_ had definitely been too far gone before, but this Thor is younger and apparently has actual compassion? How in the Nine Realms did Thor ever go from This to That? No, wait, it doesn’t matter, because Loki is not letting that happen again. And he’s done thinking about the other Thor.

“MATCH TO THOR.” 

Loki furrows his eyebrows. Thor... _also_ fell out of the ring. They _both_ fell, so by all accounts, that round should have been a _tie_. 

He’d argue for the point but he’s kinda impressed that Thor actually used his brain to trick him, even if he clearly took advantage of the fact that Loki didn’t expect Thor to use _a_ _hug_ to do it. 

It wouldn’t have worked for anyone else, but it worked against _him_ , and Loki can appreciate an opportunity taken. 

_Oh, I’m definitely going to get Thor back for that._

He’d argue for the point but he’s also busy finding the ground to be surprisingly comfortable to lay on when wrapped in Thor’s arms. Honestly, he can’t even feel the ground through all the layers of metal armour. He really must do something about that. It's improper, sure, but working in leather is way easier than clunky metal and he's honestly not used to adjusting his movements for materials that won't bend enough, not after he's only been wearing leather layers for so long.

“Genelta, Sir, I believe that point goes to neither I nor my brother.”

Aww, Thor thinks he doesn’t deserve the point, which is true, but Loki _wants_ him to have it; what Thor did was _clever_.

“Not according to my point system.” 

Wait, _what?_ Why didn’t he lay out the rules beforehand then? 

Idiot. 

Does he not understand how suspicious it sounds to start mentioning new rules after they become relevant?? This is lying 101. Loki would get up and slap him for lying, and _so badly,_ too, but he understands why Genelta would be seeking favour with Thor: he’s the favourite prince and everyone knows it. 

Odin never really tried to cover up his admiration of Thor, just as he’s never really displayed any care for Loki. 

It makes sense, really. Whyever would Odin care for someone who _isn’t even Aesir_ as much as he did for Thor? Plus, there’s the whole fact that he’s _a racist scumbag_.

Maybe Loki should consider checking in with Laufey to see if there’s any hope for paternal care there? With the war going on last time he didn’t get the chance to bring up the fact he was actually his son before he’d killed the poor guy. Hmm, yes, he should definitely work on that. 

_But Loki,_ a small part of him whines, _don’t you remember that the Jotuns are monsters and that makes you a monster too?_

HA! No. Loki can recognise systematic racism and demonic indoctrination, thank you. It had been the entire concept of Odin and Frigga never having cared for him, doing nothing to prevent Asgard’s racist resume from trying to manipulate him like that, and not realising he was an entirely different species on his own ages ago, that had put him through the blender. It was the entire idea that he’d stuck around in an abusive environment dealing with toxic people for so long thinking that he was somehow at fault for not meeting the set standards, that had knocked a few screws loose and made him believe he could prove his worth by acting according to the Aesir™ ideal™. 

Which he can safely say is the biggest regret he’ll ever have. Ever… had? Doesn’t matter. Loki won’t let it happen again. He has nothing to prove. To anyone.

_But what if Laufey DID abandon you to die on a frozen rock?_

First off, Loki is 99% sure that wasn’t the case. Odin’s entire explanation of taking him for political reasons and finding him in a temple and being a defenceless baby or whatever didn’t make much sense, to begin with. Assuming everything Odin had said at his “trial” wasn’t absolute jargon said only to hurt him just opens up more questions, because if he was truly abandoned, what political use could an unwanted child have? It doesn’t really make sense, and maybe it’s Loki wanting the best-case scenario to be true, but he hopes Laufey isn’t actually some power-hungry lunatic. 

_But if Laufey finds out he could tell everyone you’re Jotun!_

Lol no. Worst-case scenario here is that Loki just kills the guy again. Loki knows he has nothing to lose and everything to gain by at least visiting the realm, anyways. Even though Jotunheim is no longer in contact with the other realms and is now a desolate wasteland he’d done his research when he was in disguise and ruling as Mr Political Stranglehold Over All The Other Realms and he’d learnt that Jotunheim... actually had a lot of unique trades and crafts??

While Svartalfheim is renowned for their metalwork and enchantments Jotunheim was apparently the place to go for any weapons or equipment which were made of non-metallic materials. They also, unsurprisingly, had architecture that Asgard pummeled through and stole traits of ( _the palace itself is a spire design stolen from the place they stereotype as monsters!_ ) which is still something that makes Loki low key angry. The fact that Asgard hadn’t preserved any of their art or food cultures along the way is also extremely disappointing because sculptures carved of ice look cool if every 2011 action-comedy film with a formal party is to be believed. 

“I was not aware we were not using the standard points system,” Thor says.

Ah, right, he’s still lying on the ground with Thor. He should probably get up. 

_Hmm, when can I make time for Jotunheim?_ If today is a Friday, then tomorrow _should_ be their day off training, which means he’s got that magic tutor coming, which means he’s going to have to confront his bitter old magic tutor and tell her she’s fired too. 

Loki is _not_ looking forward to that, and shudders, wondering how much deeper her frown can go. Maybe he can try and fit in a quick trip to Jotunheim to distract himself from her aura of disappointment? He’ll see how he feels about that when he gets to it. Since he doesn’t need to use the BiFrost to get around he can totally pop up there anytime he wants (Loki denies any resemblance to a weasel like the old Thor had implied because he’s denying the existence of that horrid twisted version of the future thank you very much). 

“And _I_ wasn’t aware that talking back to your teacher is a familial trait,” Genelta says, which Loki finds just the right amount of ironic. “Now get off the ground and stop… touching... it is unbecoming of our realm’s princes to engage in such... frivolous behaviours.”

Ah, yes, lay thine eyes upon the field of socially acceptable signs of affection between men on Asgard and note that it is barren. 

Loki and Thor both get up, and Thor picks his tiny umbrella off the ground (it fell off when he decided to huggify Loki and Loki believes that is very symbolic, even if he can’t explain how) and goes to place it back behind his ear. 

Genelta though, as it turns out, had decided to step closer to Loki and Thor while they’d been on the ground sunbathing, and whereas he hadn’t noticed the tiny umbrella before, he sure does now, because his lip curls in disgust and he swats it out of Thor’s hair. 

Which is??? Very rude!? How dare he?!? 

As if correcting fight posture by touching people without asking isn’t enough, this guy thinks he has any right to just _decide_ what Thor can and can’t put behind his ear?? Thor looked plenty happy with the umbrella in his hair and he clearly _wanted_ it there _!!_

Now Thor looks heartbroken and is staring at the ground in shame as he retrieves his sword all because this imbecilic pea-brained dolt decided to criticise him for _decorating_ his _hair?!_

While Thor’s back is turned, Genelta steps on the paper umbrella, crushing it with a loud crunch. 

Loki is tempted to pick the umbrella up, fix it, and give it back to Thor, but it’d spark up the whole sexism discussion again, he just knows it. 

Genelta then twists his right heel over it too, and Loki is 100% sure the sound of ripping paper is the reason Thor flinches.

_I’m not petty enough to try and get revenge, now am I?_

Loki brushes the dust off his armour and goes to glare at Genelta but finds the man already looking at him and that’s always an awkward thing so he aborts that idea. 

Some distance away Thor is mumbling angrily to himself and has just gotten back into position, so Loki steps into the training ring too, dagger in each hand.

Hmm. On second thought, Loki decides he’ll try his hand at using a sword today after all.

He banishes the ice hilt and concentrates on the blade reconnecting, thereby reverting it to its original shortsword form. 

Magic has loads of uses, and not being taught it formally actually ended up making Loki ridiculously good at figuring out how to make whatever work how he wants it to because he wants it to. Not to brag, but Loki’s been doing wordless magic since he was a kid, mostly because no one had told him you were meant to be using words to begin with. 

Speaking your intent and using the words to focus energy or draw power or whatever else is great and all, and it’s what _most_ sorcerers use, but Loki’s always thought it’s a tad bit mundane to yell what your next trick is going to be anyways, especially in situations where more is at stake than a dead dove that you forgot to make appear out of a hat at a kids birthday party. 

Loki holds out the sword directly in front of him, in a basic starting position. 

This time, instead of charging in straight away, Loki starts moving to the side, so that Thor and him start circling each other. 

Thor’s grief and anger at the umbrella is forgotten as he eyes Loki in confusion at the strange tactic; Aesir warriors don’t avoid going in for the kill! Everyone knows this! Loki is honestly surprised Genelta hasn’t started barking at him for them delaying the fight by five seconds by slowly walking in a circle. 

When Loki thinks he’s standing in a decent position and with the sun conveniently in his eyes, he lifts the sword above his head and strikes. 

Thor’s eyes widen and he thinks _not again_ as he jumps out of the way and the sword hurtles past his head. 

After throwing his sword at Thor with his unfortunately horrible throwing-swords aim, Loki takes Thor’s lack of any defence, as he yells and jumps out of the way, as an opportune moment to tackle him at the waist. 

As his centre of gravity is attacked, Thor’s longsword goes flying through the air behind him, towards Genelta. Not that Thor knows this, because Loki tackled him from an angle, so that neither of them fell out of the ring, and he has Thor pinned to the ground and is sitting on him and he knows he weighs a lot even though he’s not as big as Thor, but Thor's trying to roll him off and he manages it, and now the two of them are rolling around the arena while wrestling hand-to-hand, flipping around like a kebab over a fire that an impatient kid is in charge of cooking, and Loki hasn’t had this much fun in _ages_. 

Meanwhile, a longsword clatters to the ground near Genelta’s left foot, and where The Wannabes Four snickering doesn’t, the noise snaps Genelta's attention away from his right foot, from which a golden shortsword is currently sticking out of. 

Loki eventually manages to flip Thor over the white line of the ring using a jiu jitsu move that he’d picked up from YouTube, but to be fair, Thor, fool as he is, shouldn’t have left him in the perfect position to do a pendulum sweep to begin with.

Having won their final round, Loki takes a moment to wonder if martial arts are even a thing on Earth yet. Surely _someone_ is practicing it around there somewhere, right? Or maybe he’s got a whole bunch of knowledge about Earth stuff that won’t even exist for another half millennia. 

_Netflix doesn’t exist anymore,_ he realises in horror. 

He wonders if he still has his laptop in his pocket dimension or if _everything_ is gone, but before he’s able to process that thought and properly mourn, Thor looks for the reason Loki’s point was not properly announced, and snorts in an attempt to hold back a laugh. 

Loki follows his line of sight and gasps.

 _His_ sword! _His!_ Embedded in _Genelta!_ Their _kind_ and _compassionate_ substitute trainer! Right _there!_ And it’s _right_ in his foot! Right in his _right_ foot! How did _that_ happen!

Loki places a hand over his mouth. He is shocked! _Shocked!_

Who could have done such a horrible _horrible_ thing! 

“YOU!” Genelta snaps out of the shock he’s clearly in, and points towards Loki, “you did this on purpose!”

Loki looks behind him and then looks questionably at Thor next to him. He points a finger to himself, “ _Me?_ ” 

“You threw the sword right at my foot!”

“I firmly recall sending it at Thor’s head in an attempt to maim or seriously injure him.”

“That was not cool, Brother.”

“I apologise, it was wrong of me to do so.”

“I accept your apology, Brother.” 

_“I_ am the one _injured_ here!”

“But Sir, my brother clearly had no intent or reason to try and attack you.”

“This was clearly an accident, Sir.”

“The sun must have been in his eyes.”

“I’m not used to using a shortsword—”

“—Let alone throwing one accurately enough to hit such a small target!”

“It’s true, I work much better with daggers,”

“I bet this could’ve been prevented if mine brother here was allowed to use daggers...”

Genelta’s eye twitches. 

He swears he hears Loki say something about swords ‘simply not being capable of the range of uses that a dagger makes available’ and turns to address the four other students in this class.

“I need medical attention.”

They all shrug. 

The one in brown, the oldest one, who should be the most responsible, suggests ‘walking up to the healer shack’ and the youngest one in green mumbles something about it being ‘but a scratch’ compared to what some maiden or other did to him one time. The golden-haired Sof rolls his eyes and the one in blue isn’t even looking in Genelta’s direction anymore. 

Do none of them understand that the sword has very clearly lodged itself in the ground through his foot?! Do none of these petulant children care?! 

“Thor and I will be sure to stop by and alert the healers to your little predicament,” Loki says, pulling at the chainmail sleeve of his brother, guiding him back in the direction of the palace. 

“Oh!” the one in green jumps to his feet excitedly, “does this mean training is done for at the moment?”

“I’d assume our afternoon session would be cancelled too.” Loki raises an eyebrow towards Genelta. 

Genelta, to his credit, makes himself stand up straighter, ignoring the burning agony his foot is in, and replies, “I still expect you all to show up,” which Loki thinks is a weird decision for him to make, but hey, that’s fine, it’s _his_ foot injury.

 _Honestly, if Genelta wasn’t such a muddy stick about magic and women, I could’ve even healed him myself._

Fandral is clearly disappointed in having to show up again later, but Loki can’t sympathise. He thinks it was a pretty fun training session and looks forward to another in the afternoon. 

Especially if it’s going to take any convincing that he should be able to use knives, because he has no issue with demonstrating _exactly_ how bad he is at every other weapon on Genelta’s sloppy paste-meat haired self...

Loki pulls on Thor’s chainmail sleeve until they make it to the path leading back to the palace. Loki just loves pulling on Thor’s sleeve. Don't judge him. He's missed having a brother.

“Well, that was fun,” Loki says to Thor, who is still trying to stifle laughter because _his foot! Who else would do something like attack someone's FOOT! He gave up his weapon IN A FIGHT because he wanted to avenge a flower-printed piece of paper! A sword through the foot!_

“Indeed, and I enjoyed our bout, Brother! You fought very well!” 

“Thank you,” Loki says, pretending the compliment doesn’t make his heart ache. 

He remembers what it’s like not to be acknowledged, let alone appreciated. One part of him will probably always tell him he doesn’t deserve any compliment he gets, that he’s worthless and unloved, but that’s too bad. He’s plenty great, and he knows even when he makes mistakes it’s the fact that he works on trying to work towards being a better person by his own standards that matters. 

He’s allowed to feel as if he deserves praise. He knows this. 

It still hurts. 

Topic change! Loki has better things to do than get teary eyed over Thor genuinely loving him again. 

“What would you say to joining me in my room for some leatherwork?”

Thor eyes him suspiciously. “ _Leatherwork?_ ”

“Yeah, you know, when you… work… leather.”

“If this has to do with those clothes from earlier, I’ll have to decline helping, but I would love to, errr, watch you work. Sister?”

Loki groans. But he’s smiling through it. 

Yes, Loki likes that Thor is being supportive and thinks his attempts to understand Loki better are sweet. He doesn’t need the acceptance, but he thinks it’s nice. Sue him. 

“Poking holes into leather makes me as female as doing magic does, Thor,”

“I _still_ have no clue what your other form looks like and therefore simply would not be able to tell,” Thor argues while eying Loki’s chest exaggeratedly. 

Loki rolls his eyes and swipes a hand to the left, removing their armour, leaving them both in their underarmour. 

“Better? 

“I couldn’t be sure, from your height you seem short enough to be a woman…” 

_I’m barely a few inches shorter than you!_ Loki wants to yell. 

But Loki isn’t petty. Not like Thor who is now holding a hand out from his head to show how much taller he is. Loki just snaps his fingers to get his other boots out; The 2.1 inch ones which _look_ like regular combat boots, but make Loki the _tiniest_ bit taller than Thor. Issue resolved.

_And this means I still have all my recent pocket dimension stuff lying around!_

“Hey! You can’t just do that!” Thor protests. 

“Just did,” Loki says, grinning. “Now are you coming or not?” 

“Of course I’m coming, Sister.”

“What’s the issue now? Is my hair too long? Because if it is I would like to say that yours is the same length...”

“I want payment. For having to bear the terrifying ordeal of watching my _brother_ work with sisterly leathers,” Thor tuts, “And in _his room_ , too. What would _Father_ think?”

Loki laughs. He is impressed. 

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

Thor keeps the sleazy grin but rubs a hand over his arm which proves he's nervous. Probably about the _leatherwork_ idea. “Is it working?” 

“I can’t believe my brotherly brother would try to _bribe me_!” Loki says in mock offense. Thor’s face shines in triumph. 

“And even worse! My brotherly brother thought I wouldn’t try to extort him in return!”  
  
Thor’s face drops faster than the bass at the beginning of Welcome To The Black Parade, as if he hadn’t even considered such a possibility. 

_You sweet sweet summer child,_ Loki thinks.

“I promise great rewards for any mighty warrior who assists me in my leatherwork,” Loki pauses, for the drama, “And an absence of miniature umbrellas in the drinks of any who refuse.” 

Thor considers. 

Loki can practically see Thor’s desire for the tiny umbrellas warring against his internal sense of what is acceptable for men in this sexist society. 

Obviously, the need for tiny paper umbrellas outweighs centuries of cultural conditioning. 

Thor nods gravely. “Very well, I accept your bribe, but I request the red ones.” 

Loki waves a hand around dramatically for effect. “Very well, our deal is sealed.”

They enter the palace from the same door they left from, only stopping on their way to Loki’s room to knock at the healer’s door and tell them about Genelta, and it’s not until they reach Loki’s room and Thor catches his reflection on a table mirror that he notices the red umbrella tucked behind his ear. 

He doesn’t even notice Loki pulling a leatherworkers’ shop-worth of equipment out of his pocket dimension because he’s busy trying to decide if he should move it to the other ear, or if the umbrella looks good behind the one it's already at. 

Loki doesn’t _need_ to make any new outfits from scratch, not if he’s got all his future-past stuff still stashed in his pocket dimension... but he’s never tried his hand at making any _formal_ outfits that can adjust to a change in presentation before. This is _mostly_ because he hasn’t ever felt the need when only hanging around in his own room as a female, but _more recently_ because when he’d been pretending to be Odin he’d had an illusion covering him anyway. 

If ambiguously-gendered pajamas are not allowed to be worn while impersonating the Almighty Benevolent Ruler of the Nine Realms, Loki doesn’t remember getting the memo. 

Whatever. He has loads of casual leathers and tops, but he needs some formal outfits; at least one for when he’s feeling female, and preferably a few that can adjust to any gender visibly enough for Thor to be able to differentiate at least between both forms in case he misses the few extra inches of hair. Maybe a hook that holds the upper half of the outfit tighter? No, that would leave a weird fold when male... hmm... unless he goes over that in a layer of leather strips...

Loki puts a few drops of green colour from the bottle in his desk drawer (it’s his own room, of course he knows where stuff is!) into a bowl of oil and starts mixing the dye solution. 

Having his leathers from before he fell off the BiFrost means he doesn’t need to make anything new to switch around while fighting, just plan for the formal occasions, so he can start dying some cotton and leather a nice shade of green now, and think of how he can make a gender-switching formal outfit for after. 

Thanks to his pocket dimension, he’s got loads of spare black and grey materials, but he’s been running low on greens for a while, so he’s hoping to stock up _a lot_ right now, so Thor better take this seriously.

He still can’t believe he’s actually going to be walking around however he wants. And Thor has just welcomed that? That he’ll have to use different pronouns every now and then? He didn’t even suggest that Loki’s gender isn’t a thing he can pack into a box? He’s even been joking about it? 

While he mixes up a green dye solution concentrated enough to throw into a bathtub and soak an entire dress-worth of cloth in, Loki smiles about there being someone to refer to him correctly. 

Just _knowing_ that Thor still cares despite admitting to his gender being a thing that varies from moment to moment makes Loki feel so… happy. 

When he’s got the dye and sponges ready, he finds Thor still switching the umbrella from one ear to the other. Loki looks at his brother’s clear lack of hair decoration-coordination skills, and, keeping the small smile on his face, exasperatedly sighs.

“Would you like another umbrella, Brother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made as I am often incoherent (and self aware enough to admit it), leave suggestions for what mischief Loki should get up to when he isn't thinking about being a fashion designer, give general feedback on my presentation of Loki, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself.


	7. Watching from the Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor lik leather and Loké fight bettr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's me again, hi. 
> 
> This fic somehow has 3000+ hits now?? so?? thank you??
> 
> Expect actual plot to commence, eventually,,
> 
> Enjoy.

Thor has been dabbing an even-ish coating of dye onto pieces of leather for _hours_ now. 

And he’s _enjoying_ it. 

He had had his doubts about helping Loki with something so womanly, this he admits, as he had thought it would be improper and dishonourable for a man to take part in something such as... _leatherwork_. 

However, he has indeed been touching unmade leather for a while now and has found his manly muscleness not diminished in the slightest.

Loki’s versatility truly never seizes to amaze Thor! 

Not only has Loki in the past few hours proven adept at braiding hair (warriors are supposed to keep their hair as simple as possible! Not have things such as the complex crown pattern Brother has given him! And, yet, Thor had indeed been unable to provide a counterpoint as to how the style of one’s hair could influence fighting ability and allowed his hair to be done so, in order for Brother to prop up so! so! many! cute! teeny! weeny! umbrellas! (Eight of them!!!)) but Brother had also shown him how cloth is dyed (and who would’ve thought a bathtub could be used like that?! Or that _keeping_ the cloth submerged would be such a tiring task!?) and how to punch holes in leather. 

Thor had already known Loki could sketch quite well, however he had never considered that Loki could use such a skill to design clothes! 

Loki truly is a wondrous brother, and he fears he has spent the past few years looking in, being blind, and not even knowing it, but at last he sees the light. He will not wrongfully neglect Brother like this in the future. 

Just this morning, Thor had been concerned for Loki and planned to stick with him until his sadness had left him, but, as usual, Loki’s unpredictable nature did not leave Thor prepared for him to make so many sudden changes… or perhaps such activities are normal and Thor simply does not usually spend every waking moment with Loki? 

They eat and train together five days a week, but Thor often goes to the army barracks to practice battle in his spare time, whereas Loki tends to spectate court processions, or go to the library to read, or have magic lessons, or read about magic while spectating court processions. 

They simply tend to have different interests. 

But _this?_ This is _also_ fun, and spending this time just relaxing and doing simple activities like punching holes and pressing stamps in or shaping leather all while talking is quite to his liking, and Thor wishes to do it again sometime, if Brother would permit it.

Over the course of the past few hours, Loki and he have also spoken on many subjects, including what Loki has dubbed “genderfluidity”, a term which Loki is rather fond of for something he just coined (Thor suspects he has thought on this for some time, and is still immensely proud that Loki has been willing to speak of such a thing at all!).

He even provided sufficient examples of other natural species which share similar phenomena such as the merfolk whose inborn shapeshifting and culture permits gender changes in accordance to keep a balance in “gender identity” of populations. 

On an unrelated note, Brother had also seemed rather enraptured with the reproduction methods of specific plant species, although all the terminology seems to have drifted from Thor’s mind, and he did not understand Loki’s enthusiasm when explaining. 

Thor does not see what appeal they could have or why Brother would choose to know so much about such a strange topic, but he suspects the reason is because Loki likes the fact that many plants are green. 

Loki has always seemed to have a thing for green, and it’s not that it’s a bad colour or anything, but Thor really hopes Loki learns to control his fascination with it if it will continue resulting in an abundance of knowledge on horticultural practices. 

Honestly, it’s a topic so far from what Loki typically reads about that Thor hopes Loki gets over it before some maiden comes along and he follows her into bed simply because he’s enraptured by her green dress. 

Or perhaps _Loki_ will be the one in the green dress? 

Hmm.

It would appear that when Loki had previously said he would _feel_ female he had not been referring to just a physical change as Thor had thought, but also a change of self, essentially making him a woman for the time spent as one. 

This is, apparently, not male Loki in a female body, and Loki was _very_ persuasive in convincing Thor that being female would not affect his masculinity, nor would being male affect his femininity, and vice versa. 

Thor had looked between the leather he’d been dabbing green and then made eye contact with Loki at that point and said “obviously”, because the facts were that Thor has been helping Loki here with womanly tailorwork for hours and is still rather sure that his own manly manhood has not lessened. 

However, he is still cautious of Loki implying femininity is a trait that men can possess. This being the case is honestly a monumental discovery and Thor is grateful to Loki for sharing such a theory. 

His _favourite_ part about the leather processes is watching Loki use the diamond headed chisel because he used a tiny hammer to punch the holes with, and with Loki he is not afraid to admit this, but Loki’s theory about how ‘actions and thoughts are not intrinsic to any gender and society brainwashes people into thinking the opposite’ is a close second, and Thor loves the arguments Loki made in favour of such an idea. 

T’was a very insightful few discussions they had had this day in Loki’s room.

Loki even magic-ed up some bread and meat from the kitchens as a snack during his rant on how ‘Asgard does not need sexism-o’clock on its agenda’, during which Thor admits he did not understand portions of what Loki had been talking about, nor was paying complete attention due to his preoccupation with some bread and meat from the kitchens... 

Thor finishes wiping the piece of leather he’s on and leaves it on the table to dry, grabbing another piece from the small stack Loki has kept for him. 

Loki stands some distance away, working around an upper body mannequin, making adjustments to an outfit Thor doesn’t recognise, with a strange bright yellow tape in his mouth and a ‘pencil’ behind his ear. 

“How goes the Dress of Ten Thousand Woes, Brother?” Thor asks, with the hope of sparking another conversation in a topic of interest.

“Well,” Loki starts, “I’ve accidentally given myself a boob window.”

Thor frowns. _What in the name of Asgard is a boob window?_

“I know!” Loki throws his hands in the air. “ How did that even happen, right?”

Loki gestures wildly, as he tends to do when speaking absentmindedly, and Thor discerns Brother is absorbed in his meticulous working right now and should be left to it for the time being.

“I’m filling it in by adding a layer underneath, like what I’ve done with the sleeves though, so it’s fine,” Loki thinks aloud.

Thor nods and turns away, trying not to imagine what a ‘boob window’ could possibly be. Loki has been using many an unknown term today, and Thor is taking it in stride, but he’s honestly curious. 

He obviously knows of _win-dows_ , but what in the name of Asgard is a _bew-b_??

Thor uses a wet cloth to wipe at the surface of the leather like Loki has shown him (“the leather needs to be clean before we dye it, obviously, I’m not going to go around wearing leather that looks bad, no matter how I’m presenting”) and then Thor dips his sponge into the tray of dye Loki has given him and continues dabbing. 

If he dabs and swirls the green colour slower than he could, then Loki is too busy stitching leather strips underneath this ‘boob window’ to notice, and Thor is not doing it to stretch out the time he gets to spend here, he’s doing it to make sure that he can keep an eye on Loki for longer and ensure Loki stays happy. 

After all, Thor still doesn’t know why Father was mad at Brother. But he is still angry, and expects Father to give an apology; at least for falsely accusing Loki. 

Loki had stood up for him in his own way when he’d thrown his sword at Genelta, that Thor is sure was intentional, and Brother has also always entertained Thor’s ideas even when they were perhaps not _ideal_ suggestions, and Loki is always reminding him of things he’s forgotten to do or correct mannerisms in court, and Thor swears to himself that he’ll always be there to stand up for him when Loki is wronged too, even if he knows Loki can stand up for himself. 

Speaking of which, Thor remembers the front doors of the palace being open yesterday and still doesn’t recall the celebratory occasion. _And why wasn’t there a celebration feast going on instead of regular court proceedings?_

“Hey, Loki?”

“Yeah?”

“What day was it yesterday?”

“Thursday. Why?”

“No, I meant Valaskjalf’s doors were opened last night, but I don’t remember what day it was.”

When Loki doesn’t answer Thor looks to him and sees his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. 

His first thought is _stop making fun of me! I forget things sometimes, okay!_ and his second thought is _oh no, loki what did you do_.

“Loki,” he says, as sternly as he can while dabbing at a piece of leather. He has a bad feeling about this... 

“Why were the gates of Valaskjalf open yesterday?”

“Oh,” Loki says casually, and that’s where Thor’s stomach drops, because if _Loki_ is being _casual_ about any mischief, chances are that it is quite a good bit of it, “I opened them.”

Thor is unashamed to say his jaw dropped. And he may have forgotten all about the leather. Because _WHAT?!_ _ISN’T THAT DOOR CRAZY HEAVY?!_ and _yes, yes it IS._

“You can’t just _do_ that! That’s illegal!”

“No, it really isn’t, I read up on the rules, and, teeeeechnically the _Einharjar_ can’t open the door unless there’s _a celebration_.” 

“And you are not an Einharjar.” Thor realises aloud, awe apparent in his voice. Brother has managed to surprise him one again, and with such a feat, too!

Thor lifts his hand and wriggles his fingers to ask if Loki’d used his magic hand-wavy thingy. Loki nods in affirmation. 

_Magic. Woah._

Thor definitely has a newfound respect for what magic can do.

 _It’s almost as if Loki has actual useful skills that can be utilised in a fight other than stabbing,_ Thor thinks, before adding: _I sure hope no one conveniently forgets this when representing him in any tale or ballad or other piece of storytelling._

“Indeed, I am a man of many talents, some of which include being able to open doors myself.”

“You believed your appearance was enough reason for celebration?” Thor deduces, from Loki’s earlier emphasis on the reason the doors open.

Loki smiles, “don’t you agree?”

Thor sighs. 

_This_ is why father was mad? _Really?_ Verily, Loki had opened the door rather _loudly_ , but no rules were broken! What was the problem? It is known fact that Brother points out flaws to allow the improvement of the law! Father should not have chastised Loki for opening a door too eccentrically! 

It may be frowned upon for reasons Thor can no longer see, but it is not illegal to use one’s own magic! Father has always been less tolerant and accepting of Loki’s antics and magic, but this is _utterly absurd!_ The palace is, by extension of their living quarters, their _home!_

Father essentially tried to punish Loki for _opening the door to his own house!_

Loki has a flair for the dramatics, so what? This is not news! His very speech pattern attests to his unique inventiveness! Thor would honestly be more concerned if Loki _stopped_ flaunting his penchant for fun and managed to keep quiet when told!

“Aye,” Thor agrees, “the entrance of Loki Starlight is always a momentous occasion worthy of celebration, especially when his hair is not alight in flames.”

Loki freezes at first, then looks confused, before his cheeks start fading into a bright red. 

“That was one time!” he protests, “and don’t call me that unless you like _Sunshine_ any better.”

 _Joke’s on you,_ Thor thinks, _I love when you call me that._

Loki’s face scrunches up making Thor wonder if magic grants him the ability to read thoughts too. 

Surely not, right? 

_Right?!_

Thor realises he knows not nearly anywhere near enough about Loki’s magic other than that his illusions break when touched. 

Which is fair, as Loki’s primary weapon in a fight is his knives. 

But _Valaskjalf’s doors?!_ Those things are _solid metal!!_ By Odin’s beard, _what else can Loki do?!_

“Can you read minds?”

“What? No! How is that relevant to you testing if my hair was flammable?”

“No reason.” Thor answers, relieved that Loki cannot read his thoughts, but also, he’s just noticed that Loki hasn’t put oil in his hair today. “Why isn’t your hair oiled today?” 

Loki looks at him in confusion. “You’ve been with me all day, when exactly was I supposed to dunk my hair in oil?”

“But… it’s not going fuzzy or anything, like you complain it will if you don’t dump the oil on!” Thor accuses.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Loki wriggles his fingers, “magic.”

 _Magic_. 

All Thor gets is sparks from his fingers and clouds in the sky when he’s real emotional, but _Loki_ gets to open doors and make tiny umbrellas and do his hair. 

Life is unfair.

Then again, Loki’s magic gets him loads of disrespect and bad remarks from the court, and sometimes servants too, which Thor suddenly doesn’t understand. 

Women use magic. Loki is a man. Loki uses magic. Therefore magic can be used by men too. Simple.

Where do those rumours about cowardice and being an ergi if you’re male and can fancily wave your hands even come from? Loki has always used daggers which would also be considered an argr trait and yet Thor would trust no other to watch his back in a fight! 

Thor is suddenly very concerned for the mental wellbeing of all those who support such rumours. 

Thor is ashamed to say that he may have ignored it when he heard such comments towards Loki in the past, out of respect for Loki being able to defend his own honour like a man, but he will not do so again. Loki’s explanation of magic not needing a purpose and being a manifestation of want, which can be learnt by any individual born with sufficient seidr or a way to channel it, _regardless of gender,_ was _very_ insightful. 

Thor still supports Loki as a woman, he just understands that genderism can be a toxic thing that societies such as their own support. 

To be fair, it didn’t take much _‘convincing’_ on Loki’s part, because Thor knows Loki is rarely ever wrong, so the ‘discussions’ from earlier had been more along the lines of Loki stabbing leather and stating facts while Thor nodded along and accepted everything he was saying. 

It was a very productive leatherwork session and Thor finds himself once again hoping they can do this again sometime. 

Thor loves armour. Thor would love to be able to create his own one day. 

...He’s not _jealous_ of the cool-looking set that he’s never seen before that Loki pulled out of his pocket dimension, but… it _does_ look pretty cool. And Loki is confident he doesn’t want to wear anything over it, which Thor thinks is ridiculously foolish of Loki! But Loki said he’ll prove he doesn’t need the extra layers of chain or metal in afternoon training, so Thor trusts him, even if the embedded gold necklace seems like a strange choice, and the metal square designs near the shoulders seem impractical.

He’s still thinking about how Loki had apparently _blasted the gigantonormous palace doors open,_ and a portion of his mind is still trying to puzzle out _what in Asgard’s name a boob window is,_ so when he next looks up after finishing this piece of leather he doesn’t comprehend why he finds Brother dressed in his new cool-looking only-leather armour.

_Where else would we be going in our break? Loki didn’t mention needing to do anything else!_

Unless… _no!_ It couldn’t possibly be time for afternoon training! 

He has _barely_ spent _a few hours_ here with Loki!

Thor looks out the window to find the suns crossing, and is forced to admit that it has indeed been more time than he had thought. 

Loki, observant as he is, notices Thor’s moment of panic, and kindly goes to invite him for another such session after training— 

“Would you like me to stretch time a bit if you want to stay longer?”

—sorry, _WHAT?!_

Thor can’t tell if Loki is kidding or serious and he doesn’t know enough about magic to dispute it. 

“That’s fine,” he squeaks, coughs, and repeats, louder, “No, thank you, that’s fine.”

He hastily puts the leather aside to dry and gets up. 

“Well then hurry up! I want to see how Sir plans on teaching with an injured foot!” 

Thor stands and allows himself to be dragged away by the sleeve. 

He’s not paying attention on the way down to training because he’s trying to comprehend what it means if Loki can _casually offer to manipulate time_ and what it says about him as an older brother _not to know if he can actually do that_ , but at some point Loki uses magic to fetch his armour and he thanks him. 

They reach the dirt patch, and everyone is here standing with their weapons, except, it would appear, for Sir Genelta. 

Thor can’t say he’s surprised; Loki had already been skeptical towards his declaration of turning up, and Loki is rarely wrong. 

Loki lets go of Thor’s sleeve and continues walking, and addresses the rest of the class, “If the teacher is fifteen minutes late we’re legally allowed to leave.”

“Really?” Fandral optimistically asks . 

“Well, no, not really,” Loki says, sauntering over to Sof, “perhaps we should all leave?”

Sof looks disapprovingly at Loki, “we should use the extra time to spar.”

“It _would_ be a shame to have wasted all that time getting dressed just to leave, wouldn’t it Sif?”

Thor looks at Loki in confusion. _Sif? Isn’t that Sof’s sister?_

“Do not mock me, Prince Loki.”

“Do not pretend you aren’t Sif, Sif.” 

Sof draws his sword and places it to Loki’s throat, “I'll kill you,” and Thor starts to yell at him but Loki... _chuckles…_ ? Loki has a blade to his throat and he’s _chuckling_ about it?? 

“Cute.” 

“I will! I’ll do it!”

“Sif, please, you could only _try_.”

Thor decides to step in before Loki gets himself killed — _and_ _why isn’t he reacting to the SWORD at his NECK???_

“What madness is this, Sof?” He intervenes.

“Oh, ye be of little faith, Brother,” Loki says.

“What madness is this, _Sif?_ ” Thor corrects. 

Now that he thinks on it, he’s never actually _seen_ Sif, only heard of her, which isn’t peculiar since it’s improper for underage women to attend festivities which Sof can, but now that Loki mentions it, it is quite a strange thing to never have met her.

“I’m Sof!”

Loki tsks, “It’s _never_ twins.”

“Thor! What’s all this in your hair?” Volstagg asks, with barely concealed mortification, effectively diverting the topic.

Thor puts a hand to his head, brushing over the umbrellas and braiding. 

_But… my umbrellas… all the tiny umbrellas… I don’t want them to go…_

“ —they’re a Midgardian symbol of warrior-ness,” Loki explains, Sif’s sword still at his throat, “lots of warrior-y connotations with umbrellas there, I mean, they’re basically weak shields, really, loads of… warriorily signs with bright colours there too since it means you don’t need to camouflage or hide.” 

Thor smiles at Brother. He really is grateful to have him by his side. 

“Oh, looks just like hair ornaments,” Volstagg blinks, clearly surprised, “perhaps you should remove them while you’re _on Asgard,_ yes? Just in case, Thor?”

“Nonsense!” Loki says, walking through the sword with a green fizzle at his neck, which leaves Sif gaping, “are we not the Protectors of the Nine Realms? Asgard is the one place where the cultures of the other realms can be preserved and appreciated! We should be embracing the cultures of all the realms not diminishing their worth!”

“Well said, Prince Loki,” Fandral says, drawing everyone’s attention, “but what’s all this about a _maiden_ sneaking into _training?_ ”

“You can’t stop me!” Sif argues, although her sword is pointing in Fandral’s direction instead of Loki’s now (which Thor is grateful for, but _did he just walk through her sword?!_ )

“No one is going to stop you, I assure you of that,” Loki announces, to a litany of complaints from the others. 

Thor has accepted that genderisms are social constructs (unless you desire them not to be!) as Loki had told him; however, seeing the concept in play still feels wrong. He holds back the urge to contradict Brother and argue that a woman cannot battle, but everyone else’s complaints upon Loki’s declaration are disrespectful and he’s done standing for that. He will not let it come to a point where Loki feels he must keep the reason for such trivial things as Father’s anger from him for fear of losing his love.

Besides, if Loki is going to be a woman on occasion too, then it makes sense that his knives would still be just as sharp, doesn’t it?

Luckily, Thor is the loudest here, and that means he can speak over everyone, “did you all not hear Loki the first time!?” 

“But Prince Thor!” Fandral exclaims, to Thor’s dismay, “she’s a woman!”

“You can’t expect us to continue on as if she were not…” Hogun adds, to Thor’s further dismay.

“Her place is in a maiden house!” Volstagg adds, to Thor’s even further dismay. 

How to explain what Loki has to him when it so clearly sounds treasonous when put against a simple idea such as ‘ _women do not fight_ ?’ There is no argument to be made because it is an undoubted statement, the likes of which are simply _known_. 

“She could be blindfolded and have use of one arm and still whoop all of your—“

_Ahem. Loki. No._

“—what Loki means is that Sif has proven she is capable of matching up to us fellow warriors, and does that not itself prove that her place is here?”

The men look at each other and seem to come to a conclusion. 

Sif rolls her eyes, “Warriors Three now?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Evidently.”

She sighs. “Well, I guess there’s no point denying it now,” she points her sword towards Loki once again, “you are not forgiven though, and I demand sparring with you as penance.”

Loki winces. “I was actually hoping we could use this injured-idiot-free time to try practicing against multiple opponents…”

Thor whips his head around to look at Loki. Loki, who is in a set of _fancy leather armour_ , and will be using _daggers_ in training for the first time, who has never once _encouraged_ sparring with the others, who is _proposing we all fight him at once so he can prove that he should be able to fight in what he wants and with what weapon he wants if he is capable of matching up to the other warriors_.

Thor is so _so_ proud of Loki, even if he is saddened that Loki stands no chance at winning this fight. 

Loki has simply always stood behind Thor in fights to function as a supporting fighter. He never takes centre stage and always prefers to spare lives. While his tactics are the reason Thor has come out alive of many a fight, Loki has never had to fight on his own, nor even acted as the main offense of the team. 

Loki has simply never been alone. 

There are raised eyebrows at Loki’s suggestion. 

Of course there are; everyone can see he’s lacking in anything more than aesthetic under armour, everyone can see he’s just pulled four knives out of pockets hidden in the leather strips _(one blade for each opponent, to keep the odds fair, and so he doesn’t need to use any magic in the fight,_ Thor’s mind supplies _),_ everyone can see that Loki is sorely lacking in the sheer muscle mass of the other male warriors, but, everyone agrees to the offer of pounding a Prince into the dirt, and even if _they_ may not take their fun 5v1 seriously, Thor _will_ , if only to make sure Loki knows how unsafe fighting like this is for him. 

He wouldn’t underestimate Loki too easily, after all, if anyone around here is resourceful and would manage to turn an unfair fight in their favour, it would be Loki, but this is uncharacteristically outlandish even for him! 

Thor insists that Loki get to use a shield, and even though the brat rolls his eyes, he accepts a small one on his forearm, similar to Sif’s, on the condition that everyone else be permitted one if they wish as well. 

Of course, when Thor mentions that Loki is extremely well-versed at knife-throwing, everyone agrees. _And did Loki just smile when I said that? That can’t be good…_

The united goal also lays _The Sif Issue_ aside— which, classic Loki tactic with the distraction, and technically it worked —but everyone is now preparing to take on _Loki_ , of all people. 

_It shouldn’t take long, and then they’ll just rotate and give everyone else a turn,_ Thor thinks. 

There is still time till the suns reach the horizon, which leaves the few hours until the weekly feast open for training however they wish.

 _I hope Loki doesn’t take the loss too hard,_ Thor thinks foolishly, pushing aside the feeling of discomfort in his stomach after realising Loki’s been grinning through their warm-ups; scheming face. That is definitely his scheming face. 

They decide to use the entire dirt ground as the boundary for the match since everyone agrees fitting six people into the regular ring is a dumb idea, and Thor is extremely grateful for the extra space and permittance of both a sword and a shield when Loki starts throwing knives. 

If Genelta eventually shows up, with his leg in a cast, he sees Loki down three layers of armour, holding his own against five other warriors, with nothing but a pair of daggers on hand, and he gets out of there as fast as he can. 

When Loki tugs at Sif’s short hair during the match, only for it to be revealed her hair is not blonde but a dark dark brown Thor thinks _did Loki use magic? Why is Sif so angry about this revelation? What does ‘wig snatched’ mean?_

When Loki casually mentions that shapeshifting doesn’t teeeechnically count as _using magic_ part way through the match Thor thinks _it’s going to be the snake all over again_ but then it isn’t and Thor doesn’t get the time to appreciate Loki’s other form because Loki throws another knife at him.

When Loki manages to decently hold his own (and _her_ own for a while, Thor is pretty sure, otherwise yelling ‘’YES!!!!” in the middle of the fight will be embarrassing and difficult to explain) against them all the way till it’s time to feast, Thor wonders when Loki developed such skill in battle, but he’s also got the red ears of shame because _of course Loki can defend himself, we fight together all the time, he never gets hurt, and he is fully capable of protecting himself and others._

Thor is tremendously impressed, but through the fight and after, he can’t help but think to himself, that maybe, just maybe, _he_ is the reason Loki hasn’t felt confident enough to show off his prowess before. 

_But that would be ridiculous. Loki is always confident, right?_

_But then how could he fight so well. Loki never has alone, right?_

_But this could be a one-off thing. Loki doesn’t usually rely on luck, right?_

As Thor heads around to the palace with Loki (the rest of the class has to go home and change out of their armour, but Loki knows where Thor’s outfits are and was kind enough to use magic) there are many thoughts going through his head, including those pertaining to Loki’s sudden unashamed use of magic (good for him!) and unprompted need to explain concepts such as ‘sexism’ to him (even if he is quite grateful!)

Thor looks over to Loki who has basically been stuck hugging his arm the entire walk. 

Although there are none others walking through the garden to the front of the palace, he says in a low voice because it is dark and Loki doesn’t like it when he yells: “You changed during the fight.”

Loki hums. “Did I?”

“I could sparsely tell, however, I did notice your hair became longer.” Thor beams.

“How do you know I didn’t just want to flower-gleam-and-glow my hair longer?”

“Well I—” Thor stops, realising this is a trap. There isn’t any proof that Loki had changed his gender during the match as he’d been busy avoiding Loki’s thrown knives and ridiculously wide-stanced but effective knife work. Thor didn’t really note any change in the chest region either, but may have been distracted by the knives. He also didn’t think the obsession with the colour green would ever lead Brother to glowing flowers which promote hair growth, but here he is, claiming that very thing. “Oh.” 

Loki laughs, “no, no, you were right, I _did_ change, just not to _female,_ specifically.”

_Wait, what?!_

BUt then— what _did_ Loki change to? And more importantly, how bad was yelling “YES!!!” in the middle of the fight because of this? Less importantly, was he still _Brother?!_

“ _Brother?!_ ” 

“Well, yes, and before too,” Loki says, a bounce in his step that Thor feels at his arm as they head towards the door, “he and him, unless I state otherwise.”

Thor shrugs and thinks _Loki’s gonna Loki,_ and decides to just leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know what was going on with Loki’s gender. It happened, it’s over, it’s none of his business.

They turn another corner and arrive at the side doors at the front of the palace. Thor looks to the side, at the giant official front doors and gets the urge to find someone to explain to him how magic works because _I really should know more about what Loki has such an interest in_ and verily, those doors are still as _large_ and _heavy-looking_ as they have always been.

And perhaps in seeking out someone who knows about magic he hopes he may find someone who could please tell him what a ‘boob window’ is _._

But it’s _mostly_ to learn more about Loki’s magicwork. 

Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one pointed out the Rapunzel references so I'm doing it myself in case people missed that. There are many Tangled references in this chapter. That is all. Thank you.
> 
> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, leave suggestions for what mischief Loki should get up to when he isn't accidentally leaving a giant hole in the chest of his outfits, give general feedback on Loki, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself.


	8. Frigga Is The Gold Spangled Woman With A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loki? sik? frigga no lik!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.
> 
> Shout out to @stellophia who is still beta-ing and therefore still putting up with my disgraceful lack of commas. 
> 
> Enjoy :D

Odin had spent the morning listening to the laudings of his exploits in the other realms, and _that_ , in his opinion, is the only decent way to start your morning.

The laudings also helped distract him from the fact that his _son_ , his _blood_ , had _glared_ at him at breakfast, and, of all things, it was presumably done for _Loki_. 

Odin has always intended for Thor and Loki to initially bond, but with Loki’s actions yesterday, he fears for the first time the negative impact such a bond could cause. 

This fear, naturally, has Odin running to his beloved wife as soon as the court proceedings for the day come to an end. 

Odin enters Frigga’s chamber to find her sitting by the canal that divides the room, water weaving; because she has no functional role around here other than weaving tapestries and scrying, and using both together is how her wonderfully futuristic drapery patterns are made. What else would one expect?

Perhaps looking into what future pattern she should make is not the best use of her gift of prophecy, but that is what she uses it for, and it is her magic to use as she sees fit. 

“Frigga!” He cries, as way of greeting, “is Loki ill?!”

She looks away from the pattern suspended above the water, to him, in alarm, “Loki is sick?!” 

She rises. “I must see to him at once!”

“ _Is_ he?”

“What do you mean _‘is_ he?’!”

“ _Is_ he _sick?!_ ”

“You mean you _don’t know?!_ ”

"Why else would I ask you!"

"So he _is_ sick then?!"

"He _is?!_ "

"That's what _I'm_ _asking!_ "

“Has there been news of this?”

“Well, _this_ is the _first I’ve heard of it._ ”

“Then rest your heart, if he has not come to you yet it could be nothing major,” Odin says, which calms her and himself down substantially. 

_If he’s not sick enough to seek her, it is definitely a good thing. Nothing major, then._

_Can’t risk Loki dying on us before he’s fulfilled his purpose._

Odin thinks about the last time the boy was sick and shudders. 

“I will inquire as to his health at the feast if you will it, just to be sure,” she says, although her tone is questioning. 

Odin nods. That would be wise. There is no reason to take drastic actions. Loki has only displayed sudden urges in strange things for a single day. 

This uncharacteristic bout of... _confidence…_ in him will surely be gone soon. 

“Has he done something strange to warrant your disapproval?” Frigga asks, curious, as she settles herself back down by the small stream. 

“Disapproval?” Odin grunts, “the boy interrupted court last night by slamming the doors open!”

_It must be a phase, surely?_

“Now, now, Odin, a little noise is nothing to fret over, and it wasn’t even enough to wake me so it isn’t even—”

“The palace doors.”

“That doesn’t— the _palaCE DOORS?!_ ” Frigga’s waterwoven pattern collapses, smacking into the running water. “No, Loki is far _far_ too sweet to have intentionally tried to do such a thing!” 

“He didn’t try, he _succeeded_ ,” _—_ _and with enough force to leave dents in the walls no less,_ Odin thinks— “and I think he was trying to make a point, although I haven’t the slightest clue as to what it may have been…”

“‘Making a point,’” Frigga repeats, then scoffs, “honey, this is _Loki_ we’re talking about, he’s got the self-esteem of a sheep and is near as desperate to prove himself by following Thor around, as he’s always been; he’s not going to be ‘making a point’ of anything anytime soon, least of all to _you_.”

“You’re right, he must’ve _accidentally_ burst in to so practically demonstrate a flaw in an unchangeable law we’ve been _following for countless millennia—_ “

“—I’m sure that all is well, he’s most likely just a little under the weather and jumped ahead of himself.”

 _But what if this is a permanent change,_ Odin’s mind screeches, _what if the useless political power-pack is growing to be a bigger inconvenience than ever?_

“I should hope so, although we should revise our plans just in case,” Odin says, walking back and forth along the side of the canal opposite her. 

“Odin, Loki isn’t rude enough to intentionally just—“

“—did you teach him how to use daggers?” he cuts in.

Frigga’s face falls in confusion. “Daggers? No, of course not.”

“This morning Loki requested the use of daggers in his training.”

_As I found out when his personal trainer came hobbling to me from the healer rooms, telling tales of him using magic and demanding the use of daggers— not even a request! What has possessed Loki?_

“Dear, you know he’s been teaching himself how to use them, why do you suspect me having some hand in this?”

“Because something has _changed_ , Frigga.”

Frigga lifts an eyebrow skeptically. 

_She thinks I’m making this up!_

Odin stops pacing to look at her, “he threw a sword at his teacher! On purpose!”

“Perhaps Sir Traibar—“

“Genelta,” Odin corrects, “I put Traibar on leave for a few weeks.”

“Well, perhaps this man is simply lying?”

“Impossible! Genelta is a good man, and such a cowardly attack reeks of Loki’s doing.”

“But Loki never condones violence!” Frigga argues, “surely if he did such a thing he would have had a reason!” 

“Which was my reason for inquiring with you to his health,” Odin reiterates: “Without a reason I believe he has either contracted a mind sickness or has simply changed for the worse, and in either case I believe starting Phase Two would be the best course of action.” 

“But— don’t you think they’re rather young? We can still wait a few centuries to properly solidify his attachment—“ Frigga protests.

“If Loki _isn’t_ ill and has for whatever reason decided to suddenly be as ungrateful as he is acting then it won’t make a difference.”

“What could he have possibly done to warrant this rash thinking?”

“I tried checking on them earlier during court just to see what they were up to—” Odin wildly gesticulates, knocking over Frigga’s favourite vase “—and found Loki braiding Thor’s hair!” 

Frigga looks at her favourite vase in pity.

“Now, now, it couldn’t be _that_ bad, and besides, Loki’s general softness just suits our purpose anyways...”

“He put tiny umbrella ornaments through Thor's hair, Frigga!” 

She blinks. 

_Tiny… umbrella… ornaments…? Why would he_ —

“First his trainer came hobbling into court with a foot in a cast claiming Loki speared him for not letting him use daggers, and then when I checked what he was up to in his break, it was THAT!”

“It _does_ sound as if an illness must be the cause.” She admits, because, really, Loki is the kindest-hearted person in the room at any given moment; he’s soft-spoken unless speaking in a situation where he has been granted explicit permission, he’s the perfect image of a subservient prince, or at least, he would be, if he wasn’t so gifted with magic and words and had a knack for small sharp pointy objects. 

“There is no need to worry, dear, I’ll just ask him what the problem is this evening, everything will be fine, I’m sure.”

“The poor man said Loki had beaten Thor in a fair match twice of three matches—“

“That’s not too unusual...”

“—using a broken sword as a dagger!”

“Oh.” Well, that’s a complication, she thinks, although a part of her can’t help but be proud that Loki managed well against Thor. 

_And that even, with knives! Of all the weapons in the armoury!_

Just because alienating the kid means she vehemently refuses to teach him knife work doesn’t mean she hasn’t been encouraging his passion and enjoying tales of his skills; and not only is symbolism important, but knives are both a woman’s weapon (specifically, her own, and what a message that sends) and something left untaught on Asgard, but making Loki’s unofficial and notorious use of them in battles a commonly known subject is one of great shame on two fronts, as the boy well knows. 

This, of course, brings to light questions about why Loki has so suddenly decided he wishes to train with daggers as his official weapon of choice (rather than a staff/spear, as he previously publicly favoured) and, of course, where in the thrice Asgard-damned world he’d managed to get the skill and the confidence to wield _daggers_ over _Thor_. 

And, also, _a broken sword?!_

_By the light of Asgard, what exactly goes on in their training sessions?!_

All things considered, Frigga is of mind to guess a sickness of the mind or a curse of madness are responsible.

Loki has taught himself basic moves such as dagger-throwing and blocking with them of course, and his natural dexterity helps, but using them without a sword or larger weapon is something Frigga cannot see him doing for the next few millennia, if she’s honest. 

And against _Thor?_ Would he not fear harming his _beloved brother?_ He owns not the expertise to ensure Thor remains unharmed, after all, and daggers can only be used in quick and lethal bursts, against one, or two opponents at most. 

Not the most ideal weapon for a warrior, indeed, but Loki’s been enraptured with the idea of twin blades since childhood, and it just so perfectly added to the image of his fancy in the woman's art, the healer's craft, the shiny parlour tricks which magic is treated as.

Not that Loki’s magical potential is small, no, not at all! When Odin had first told her he intended to keep a stolen Jotun son she had objected out of sheer principle— there were too many issues attached! 

If she was asked about a pregnancy she had no answers, if anyone asked about the blue skin she had no answers, if someone asked about the black hair she had no answers. 

But, even as a Jotun, he didn't _look_ it.

Even as a Jotun, the child had _magic_. 

_Magic._

A primordial force of the universe, and the child had _a lot_ of it. There was no way Frigga could reject such a gift and simply not claim the child as hers —despite his inevitable fate— because her own child, a mere few centuries older, had magic too but it was less and funneled towards one domain and that made the limits of what he could do with it very... _well…_ for lack of better word _… limited_. 

Loki’s magic is free to dabble in everything and he has enough of it that she would have adopted him only on the basis of protecting Thor anyway, even if she would much rather prefer to experiment with what he could do with his magic. 

Not that Loki slacks in his attempts to learn everything he can about the art; he just doesn’t have the materials or even the books to learn it available, as Frigga has to ensure. She understands that sacrifices must be made for the good of the realms, and that Loki simply must be disadvantaged and suffer if peace between Jotunheim and Asgard, and by extension, the rest of the realms, must be achieved, but she still regrets such a strong male magic user will never get the opportunity to flaunt his abilities in positive light because he isn’t really even in the running for the throne. 

So far, Loki has proven a wonderfully skilled asset in only using magic for defensive purposes in battle, and even if Frigga wishes to teach him more because of the sheer power he could have if he got his hands on some of the decent learning guides she keeps hidden… but no. Loki will have to remain dependent on Thor and Odin’s approval, and it would be better to keep using magic only as a vector to degrade Loki, as that is the only part of the equation it can work for. 

Frigga shudders, recalling Loki’s single bout of sickness when he was a child. In theory, if he falls ill to something similar, then his lessons in control _should_ grant him enough ability to suppress the... _unique_... random effects it would have on his magic. 

Hopefully.

“Good for him,” Frigga says, to fill the empty silence of their room, “so, they’re back at training now then?”

She takes his silence for a yes and when Odin urgently hurries towards the balcony she follows him out; from their balcony they can see down the distance to the training ground, if they squint.

Odin makes it to the balcony seconds before her, and he freezes.

He doesn’t know what he expected to see, but from what they can make out, Loki is _thrashing five opponents with a set of daggers and moves no one on Asgard could have taught him_.

Odin takes a deep breath in, holds it, a long exhale. A deep breath in, hold, another long breath out. It’s the only way he can stop himself from pulling his hair out and screaming because _HOW IN THE NORNS-DAMNED WORLD DID THIS HAPPEN?!?!_

 _Frigga_ is the _only_ other dagger wielder on the _planet_ , even if most women tend to own a knife or two. 

The only _other_ dagger wielder, because, _apparently_ , sometime between _right now_ and _the last time Odin reminded Loki how disgraceful his rejection of swords is and told him to quit practicing with knives in secret_ , he’d become _good enough with them to fend off multiple opponents_. 

With what Odin is pretty sure is a huge smile on his face.

Odin ceases his breathing exercises and turns to his wife, carefully keeping the scene below out of his line of sight. “Do you find yourself capable of explaining that?” 

Frigga finds she cannot lift her eyes from the scene below. 

Loki parries Sif’s sword (and since when has she revealed her hair is not golden? Isn’t that supposed to be a secret? That and pretending she was a man was the only way Odin had permitted her to go into royal training at all…) and then throws a dagger towards Fandral’s hand, knocking the rapier out of his hand. 

While the knife flies he sweeps a leg behind Volstagg’s knees, getting him to fall over at the same moment Loki drops in a bend backwards, far enough to avoid the swing of Hogun’s mace. Loki uses a leg to kick at Hogun’s swinging arm, and the momentum of his own swing throws him into Thor’s shield. 

Sif takes a swing from the side and Loki pulls a dagger from his leathers to replace the one he lost in time to cross the pair over and catch Sif’s sword, then twist, so her grip on it sends her sword flying away. 

Wait, where did he pull the dagger from? The standard fighting gear— _by all of the Nine, Loki isn’t wearing armour_ — _he’s gone mad; my boy’s gone mad, and before he was meant to, too_ —

“He’s sick,” Frigga says, her voice shaking as she tries to convince herself. “That’s the only explanation, he _— he isn’t even wearing armour—_ ”

Thor tries ramming into Loki with his shield but Loki steps around him, making the shield catch the blow of Hogun’s mace. Sif, swordless, tries to punch him in the face but he ducks and her fist collides with Volstagg who had only just gotten back on his feet. 

Frigga thinks Fandral trying to use his shield as a flying disk is a foolish move until it actually manages to rebound off the side of Loki’s head, but even that small victory is short-lived as Loki laughs, plucking the circular shield off the ground and throwing it right back, perfectly knocking Fandral in the head and going on to hit Thor in the back and knocking him over too. 

Loki marches on the spot in a way that emits self-righteousness before giving a wide smile and saluting the group as they pull themselves back together. He holds up his own shield in a very patriotic manner and winks before the fight resumes.

“I hope for the sake of peace in all the realms that the boy has fallen victim to some curse or illness of the mind,” Odin says, “but if this is not the case I worry for what we must do…”

 _Well_ , Frigga thinks, _if Loki’s gone off the deep end I’m worried about what we shall have to do as well... not when Loki was turning out so sweet and mannered and obedient..._

It just doesn’t make sense to Frigga.

Loki couldn’t possibly have become this confident in fighting, not after centuries of ridicule for his slight appearance, not after being pitted against Thor constantly, not after consistent degradation for his preference of avoiding combat and daggers. 

Asgard doesn’t even _have_ any equipment or facilities to learn knifework! Loki has to _improvise_ to make his own equipment! And even _that_ is done in the shameful solitude of his room! 

Thor and he go out often enough, but she hadn’t realised how far Loki’s skills have developed; probably a result of the unimportance given to whatever negligible contributions he makes in fights. If he was doing any interesting killings surely his role would come up in more bard recitals of Thor’s quests, right? 

Perhaps Frigga and Odin should’ve trusted Thor not to exaggerate too much on Loki’s dagger skills. 

It does not matter. 

However this has come to pass, it is truth now.

Loki is smart. He has learnt to take on multiple opponents. In the case that he is not sick, they must prepare to adapt their plans so that Loki can still prove useful towards at least Thor, if not trusted for the potential alliance with Jotunheim. 

“I’m sure this’ll pass in time,” Frigga assures Odin, “it must be a phase, but if it is not, we shall indeed prepare.” 

Odin nods and they turn from the balcony to head back inside. 

Frigga glances back when Thor yells “YES!!!” but she is not sure what prompted that. 

_Did… Loki’s hair... gain a few inches??_

Odin draws the curtains over the balcony, obstructing her view, and Frigga tries not to think about the implications of Loki being able to manipulate his hair. 

This is fine. It’s not as if hair cannot be manipulated through magic or anything like that. It’s not as if the inborn magical properties of Jotun, Vanir, and Aesir hair prevent tampering with it in any way through magic. Everything is fine. 

“So, I’m considering activating the second phase tonight...”

Frigga bristles at Odin’s admission. _They’re children!_ she wants to argue, but she sees the sense in this. 

If Loki is somehow not ill then it would mean risking centuries of work if Thor still values him. They must begin to sever Thor from Loki much earlier than planned, but this will be of little consequence in the long run as the outcome should be the same. 

“Allow me a week to try and ascertain the cause of his madness, dearest.”

“A week to get him in check, and no more; the menacing child has already done enough!” Odin begins pacing again, mumbling to himself about ‘flower-print paper umbrellas’ and ‘the audacity’.

_Well, someone’s in a grumpy mood today._

Frigga turns to the lightkeeper and finds there is not much time until the sun sets. The food may not be set until some time yet; however, most of the nobility would have begun amassing in the feasting hall by now. 

Feasts mean that Odin steps down from his throne and attends to food at the base of the stairs of the throne, at the same table as his citizens do. It is a symbolic gesture and one that ensures the royal family must interact and demonstrate their unity, something done through the king and queen’s placements at the head of the table, with one son on each side— Frigga will be able to easily inquire as to Loki’s health during this time since he sits by her.

_Before that, though…_

“We mustn't be too quick to assume centuries of conditioning has simply absolved itself, husband…” 

_That would be ridiculous! And with Loki’s tempered ability to care, it would take decades, at least, for him to no longer care about any of us! Not that the naive child will ever be able to see the manipulation, he’s too busy chasing after Thor’s safety and Odin’s approval!_

“A week.” 

Frigga nods her acquiesce. She hopes for his sake that Loki is unwell. If he has for some reason managed to overcome or ignore his ostracision from society, the reveal of his heritage later will not have as profound an impact on him as it could, and that would mean a huge waste of magical potential and time. 

“Most of our guests should be awaiting us in the feast hall, Husband.” 

Odin picks his helmet off his bedside table and places it on his head. Frigga rolls her eyes in an attempt to look away. 

The helmet just looks _so bad_. 

It’s not that she never got used to Aesir headwear, she just doesn’t appreciate the flamboyant nature of ceremonial gear. Are the wings really necessary? And the horns? They’re not even _engraved_ or anything. They also don’t provide much general protection, and she has never seen an Asgardian helmet prove useful for anything —other than making the wearer look ostentatious— ever. 

She centers her huge gold-crystal necklace and straightens the neckline of her gem-studded dress before holding out an arm for Odin to link his in, a fond smile playing on her face. 

“Then let us go,” Odin says, putting his arm through hers. 

They head out of their room and make their way to the feast hall. 

Odin has already checked with the kitchen staff to ensure the meats are being spiced as specified (salt, honey, _and_ lemon meats tonight, because Asgard has limited natural spices and doesn’t care for any others anyway, and lemons are reserved for occasions such as feasts) so he’s content to simply make his way to the throne hall with his wondrous wife on his arm without disruptions. 

Thinking of nothing, of course, reminds him of The Loki Problem, which is a pretty big no good very bad one. 

He still has to give Loki a stern talking to about his use of magic over the past day. 

Odin fears what havoc to his plans something such as traces of ‘confidence’ or hope of ‘achieving more than a scrap of approval’ would cause… and decides not to think about it. 

Loki being skilled in battle is not something too alarming, if surprising. The skill in daggers could actually serve well in emasculating him further than his less-than-manly choices in outerwear… hmm… yes, if Loki doesn’t wear a layer of metal armour all the time like Thor does, then the daggers will only add to his _disgraceful_ ... _image_...

Two guards at the doors straighten up and pull open the doors, revealing the boisterous nobility awaiting the feast, at the same time Odin and Frigga round the corner. 

Naturally, the crowd parts to allow them to take their seats at the head of the center table. 

Following this, their guests begin to take their own places at the tables spread around the room; the court takes their usual seats at Odin’s. 

It will not be long now before the dishes are ladened out.

Thor and Loki must still be sparring, Odin thinks to himself. 

Odin wonders how long Loki had managed to fend off the rest of his class. He was skilled but so much manoeuvring and thought into balancing defense and offence attacks in return to so many opponents without being able to kill them… he would’ve lasted a few minutes at most and their timing to witness the fight must have coincidentally have lined up with the beginning of Loki’s turn. 

He would have to ask Thor on how long _he_ fared against his opponents.

Odin knows Thor is not the most skilled with a sword; however, it matters not, as the mighty Mjolnir is being kept for him anyway. Thor certainly has the arms to wield such a fine magical weapon, and it shall be able to help focus and amplify his elemental power too. 

Odin hides a smile as he imagines how gifting Thor such a legendary weapon would affect Loki, who is not and never will be destined for any such thing. 

He hears murmurs of disagreement but before he catches what they’re about the palace doors open to grant Thor and Loki entrance.

The doors. The palace doors. The doors of the palace. The front doors meant to be opened specially on celebratory palace occasions. Valaskjalf’s doors. Those doors. 

The doors of Valaskjalf. 

_THE NORNS-DAMNED DOORS OF VALASKJALF._

_AGAIN!_

_Speak of the monster and he shall appear,_ Odin thinks, as he watches Loki casually stride through the door-induced silence of the feast hall, clinging to Thor’s arm. Odin holds in a growl and tries not to stare too hard at his arms wrapped around Thor’s.

He consoles himself with the fact that at least they hadn’t burst open this time, only for his ire to rise when he remembers how he’d had to personally get up and assist in closing the doors last night because there aren’t enough guards typically stationed at the doorway. 

The regular chatter of the nobles picks up, and Odin takes deep breaths. 

Loki’s actions are most assuredly going to be the topic of conversation, and while a notorious reputation would help in putting him down, this kind of behaviour is rebellious and Odin does not like the idea of Loki putting up a fight and not quietly letting himself be oppressed and alienated for such things; his confidence as he converses with Thor indicates things that put the peace of the realms at risk. 

_I hope you’re ill, for your sake,_ Odin thinks, as Loki unlatches from Thor and saunters around to Frigga’s side of the table with a smile. ( _Saunters! Why can't the lad just walk normally?! He just has to make a production out of everything, doesn't he?!)_

 _Yes, they’ve had enough time to bond,_ he thinks venomously (which is allowed, because wanting your blood to stop interacting with a creature like _him_ is reasonable), _it’s time to pull them apart._

Thor walks towards Odin’s own side to take his usual seat, but he keeps his eyes trailing Loki —who Odin notes with distaste is looking… genuinely happy?? _Again??_ How _dare_ he— while doing so. 

Forget the extra week, Odin can _not_ let centuries of work go waste. 

He gives Frigga _A Look_ to indicate this, and she almost impercievably nods beside him, hand over her mouth in shock, still staring at the open hall doors. Or perhaps she’s staring at Thor’s head which is littered with those petulant tiny umbrellas? 

It’s not his fault she hadn’t believed him, but perhaps this puts things the unfathomable direness of the situation into perspective. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is going to be fun.
> 
> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, leave suggestions for what mischief Loki should get up to when he isn't accidentally making Odin and Frigga freak out, give general feedback on Loki's presentation, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself. <3


	9. Strange(r) Things have Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stefen want ice crem thor+odin bffs 4evr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> here, have a little chapter, as a treat,

Stephen Strange presses a finger to the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“Where is Loki?” the blonde asks, for the gazillionth time in the past few minutes, his voice just as loud as the last few times he’d asked this exact question.

“I told you,” Strange says, calmly, despite his still-present desire to sucker punch the alien. “I left him _right there_ , in _that_ portal.”

“What have you done with Loki?” The 6ft+ muscled wall of steroids asks, again, his voice equally booming as every last time he asked.

“I told you, Mr Odinson, I haven’t _done_ anything,” Strange gestures up exasperatedly, at the portal into darkness, still opened above them, “he shouldn’t have been able to _just leave_ —”

“What has Loki done now?” Thor says, once again accusing Loki for leaving a portal that should have, in theory, rendered him mentally and magically unable to. 

If Strange wasn’t so certain of his own infallibility he would suspect he may have had a hand in dropping Loki somewhere else prematurely. The likelihood of that is negligible, though. Sure, he’s never drawn on the pendant’s energy for a spell before, but the chances of that having anything to do with this is minuscule. Right? Besides, it was Loki, he couldn't be certain anything less would’ve even been able to hold him with that large of a power signature.

Well, there aren’t exactly any guide books that discuss its use as a power source instead of just manipulating time, and Strange is by no means an expert on the stone he guards _(yet)_ , but he’s relatively certain that some of it’s infinite energy wouldn’t have changed anything. He’s had the stone for a while now and he’s _sure_ he didn’t reopen the portal anywhere!

That, of course, begs the question of where and how Loki managed to get out, since _he still somehow escaped_. 

The mental image of Loki making contact with some sort of Demogorgon while falling and ripping open a gate between dimensions flashes through his mind and he studiously decides to ignore it. Loki doesn't have psychic abilities. Probably. There's no reason to panic.

None of his readings have indicated that the Upside Down is a dimension that could exist. Just because Loki is gone doesn't mean the Mind Flayer is going to show up like an unnecessary sequel-rehash of Dormammu. There is nothing to worry about.

The genocidal madman escaped an impossible-to-escape-from portal, and if there is any valid reason to freak out then Loki is _it_ , but Stephen prides himself on being a professional, thank you. He will _not_ be afraid of some second-rate ‘Master of Magic’ who has been let loose on the planet and is probably causing problems and threatening to kill people and _he better not be attacking New York again._

“Thor?” a new voice. Strange turns to find an old, long-haired, bearded, bedraggled but decently dressed man stepping through the portal. “Son?” 

Ah, it’s Odin, the AllFather, wonderful. Let’s call the queen of England over for some tea too while we’re here.

“Father! You are well!”

We can all sit together at the sanctum table and gossip about Vishanti curses. Maybe she’ll try and steal an ashtray thinking it’s an artefact or something. Perhaps he could even pull out the centuries old fine china Wong never lets him touch because ‘it was gifted to the Ancient One’ and ‘the set is older than you will ever be’ and ‘Stephen, these are not for your kind of tea anyways’. He should get the fire going just in case.

“Where is Loki?” Odin asks, looking around the room as if he expects the would-be world conqueror to be hiding behind any and everything.

Stephen holds in a sigh. 

He graduated with his M.D. and Ph.D. at the same time; he handled working around imbeciles such as West; he bounced back from having the nerves in his hands receive irreparable damage; he made his way to being Master of the New York sanctum and this planets’ protector from inter-dimensional threats in mere years; he is _not_ throwing in the towel now. 

“It matters not, Father! You are well, and can resume your position as the wise and mighty King of Asgard!” Thor pulls himself out of the body-slam hug he’d had on Odin and turns to Stephen. “Thank you for your assistance, earth wizard, we’ll be taking our leave.”

“Master of the Mystic Arts,” Stephen corrects grouchily, managing to hold back an eye twitch, “and you can’t just _leave_ while Loki is _missing_.”

“Uh, yeah, I can,” Thor says, shifting his balance and throwing the umbrella from one hand to another casually as if he isn’t brandishing a powerful magical device.

“What has Loki done now?” Odin asks, accusingly. 

Stephen pastes on his naive-patient smile.

He bets The Avengers don’t have to deal with senile man-children asking the same questions over and over.

Why do _they_ get the ice-cream flavours again? 

“You’re the father, yes? Loki has managed to escape a portal to the fifth plane of existence, and I’m going to need to track him down so you can take him and be on your way…” 

“You will not touch my father's hair, _wizard_ —" Thor howls. And... did he just spit the word _wizard_ as an insult…? His _Brother_ is a mage too...? And the hair thing again… do Asgardians have some strange cultural tradition where they value hair which he has been ignorantly trodding over...? Did he unbeknowestly besmirch Thor’s honour when he plucked a strand earlier? _By the Doors of Vanuatu_ , Stephen hopes he’s not betrothed to Thor via some weird Yggdrasil cosmic magic force now.

“He does not share my blood, no,” Odin says serenely. Oh, okay, so he’s in the green. That’s good. Surely Odin wouldn’t be this calm if— wait, _what?_

_Why not?! Isn’t it regular practice across the realms for those adopted into a family to be blood-tied in?_

_Oh. Well, that’s a potential landmine._

Strange decides not to bring it up. The rumours about Odin being a negligent father and treating Loki unfairly are true, it would seem. Not that it makes a difference. The guy still tried (and horribly failed despite all his magical potential) to conquer the planet. Which is still… weird… but Stephen isn’t going to kick the gift horse in the mouth, especially not when said evil alien somehow managed to get out of an impossible freefall.

“Oooookaay,” Strange says, eying the old man with suspicion, “well, do we know anyone who shares enough DNA with him? I could still get a tracking spell going with an indirect relative but it might be less accurate and give a larger location radius…”

“No.”

Strange lifts an eyebrow. 

No? Well, that’s incredibly unusual. 

And… extremely inconvenient. 

“I guess I could try pulling something together if you’ve got anything of his on you or lying around…” Strange gestures at the pair questioningly. 

“Afraid not.”

“He put an enchantment on my hammer.”

Well, for starters, that isn’t an enchantment. It’s a basic transfiguration spell. Or an advanced illusory spell. One of the two. But what it definitely is _not_ is an _enchantment_. 

So _this_ is really the extent to which the “Realm Eternal” values magic? 

The wealth of knowledge is overwhelming. 

And why is Odin scowling. Is the misuse of basic magic terminology ticking him off too?

“I’m afraid that won’t be enough, but I can try and see if it works,” Strange makes them all appear in the library room, and holds back a smile when Thor stumbles and puts a hand on a bookshelf to prevent himself falling. He glares at Stephen, “was that really necessary?”

“We could have just walked,” Odin suggests. He hadn’t stumbled, but, to be fair, Stephen hadn’t expected him to. There’s got to be some truth to his title as the most powerful being in the nine realms, after all. Even if the oldie didn’t set off any magical wards he could always have some very good suppressor spells in place to disguise his potential, like how Loki did, but, obviously, more successful ones.

 _Ugh,_ Strange thinks, _Loki BETTER not be attacking New York._

He pulls out a book and flips through it. The only Asgardian modification to tracking the user of magic on an object is that you need direct contact with the said object. Strange already knows this, he’s read it before, obviously, but watching Thor stumble is a much-needed stress relief and substitute for attempting to deck the man since grabbing some Advil mid-conversation might be considered rude.

And he would hate to offend the notorious crowned idiots of this section of the universe. 

“Give me a moment,” he says, placing the book back and waving a hand to take him to his desk. He’s already got a glass and leaflet waiting. 

Is it too late to go back to working as a surgeon? At least the patients didn’t repeatedly ask the same moronic questions over and over when under heavy anaesthetics...

He presses a hand to his temple to alleviate his headache and makes himself appear back at the bookshelf. 

He holds a hand out. “Magic umbrella please.”

Thor has the audacity to look offended and shields the umbrella with his body.

Sometimes the total obliviousness of people just blows his mind.

“I’m not keeping it, you can hold it if you want, I only need to touch it…”

“But—” Thor looks between his father and Strange in alarm, “it’s _mine_.”

Would it be appropriate for Strange to make Thrym joke here, or would that be imposing? 

(Of course Strange has done his reading. One does not simply find out there are alien namesakes hanging around and _not_ walk into the Mythology Section of the library.)

“Yes, it’s yours, and I’m not about to run off and sing in the rain with it,” the Protector of the New York Sanctum assures, as if he were coaxing and coddling a child. Honestly, he’s not about to steal the thing! 

Unless it would get him his own dessert flavour in the store across the road… then he would _consider_ stealing it… _consider!_

It’s not bad to want some recognition every now and then, and this job doesn’t exactly _pay,_ what with all the _materialism is bad_ mantras.

Thor looks like he’s about to hold out the hammer, but he hesitates. Despite the fact that _Loki_ is _out there loose somewhere_.

“Why don’t you just call in The Avengers?” Thor suggests. 

Strange stops charging the tracking spell. The Avengers? _The Avengers?_ Thor, buddy, pal, you _absolute bimbo_ , look me in the eyes and say that again you miscreant, you reprobate, you _hypertension-inducing imbecile_ —

“Why are you staring at me like that, wizard,” Thor says, his voice rising back to the boom-yell which appears to be his regular tone. Lovely, that.

“Are you aware, Mr Odinson, that you… _are ‘_ The Avengers’?”

“I meant the other ones! Tony, and Steve, and such! Just give them a call, send in a voicemail, chat them a message.” 

Oh, you poor, _poor_ idiot. 

While he fends off the migraine being in the same room as Thor has giving him, Odin questions Thor about why he’s still associating with the mortals. 

You know what? Screw it. If “teamwork” is what it costs to get _Strange’s Strawberry Supreme_ to hit the market, he’ll do it. He’ll relinquish his solitary status. Whatever it takes.

“Okay, fine,” he pulls his phone out of a pocket in his robe. “I’ll call _The Avengers_.”

Thor proudly beams and flexes his pecs, as if his work here is done, and he’s now on the clock for Masculine Duty.

Strange manages not to flinch when he remembers how _Rocky Rhodey_ had hit the market upon the man’s official _initiation_. For Agamotto’s sake! The man hadn’t even saved the universe or done anything Avenger-ish and even _he’d_ gotten a flavour! 

He resists pressing a finger to the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you have their numbers?”

Thor stops flexing to look at him questioningly. “No, what for?”

Strange can feel his hair getting greyer by the second. He swears Thor is lowering the IQ of the whole street every time he opens his mouth. At least _Odin_ has had the _decency_ to _keep his yap shut_ —

“We don’t need your Avengers, Thor can handle Loki fine if he pops up; for now, come join me in Norway, Son, I have a view to show you.”

Strange’s eye twitches.  
  
At this rate he’ll be grateful if Loki just attacked New York because then he’d know where he is and can wash his hands of these clots. 

_Stephen’s Superfluous Sundae, you better be worth it,_ Strange thinks, as he guides his sling ring in a circle and fills Tony Stark’s name into the mental chant, opening a portal. 

His flavour _better_ taste better than the billionaire’s chalky hazelnut one. 

If it doesn’t, Strange might just help Loki attack New York when he inevitably shows up again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, criticize Thor, mock Odin, call out Stephen for being vain, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself. >:)


	10. Sibling Bonding Go Brrr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> famly fest drama and evry1 toons in evn the anmls and les noblés

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time is a social construct and Friday the 13th 2020 is a mindset
> 
> Warning for typical Asgardian values about gender from this point forth. More information in the end notes in case anyone may need it.

"Prince Loki, the doors have been locked for the occasion today."

“I don’t believe in locks,” Loki says, before making some hand gestures.

Thor doesn’t recall magic hand movements requiring that much actual waving, but he ignores it as Loki’s hands glow a subtle green and the palace doors blast open.

 _Well, that certainly caught everyone’s attention,_ Thor thinks, walking in with Loki still holding onto his arm. 

It’s a bold move on Loki’s part, and a part of Thor can’t help but twinge in shame at both the use of magic and the fact that Loki is clinging to his arm. Then he holds back a grimace as he feels ashamed at thinking that way; magic and touching are _not_ womanly traits, _nor_ is being womanly in any way something that should be considered inherently lesser.

Thor takes a deep breath in and pastes an easy smile on his face. He’ll just ignore the people watching. Loki and he touch all the time in public. 

That makes it sound weird. 

They just... casually embrace... often... when the other doesn't mind...

“That was amazing, Brother!” he says quietly, tilting his head down towards Loki, who smiles softly at the compliment. 

_Yes, much better, I’ll just focus on Loki rather than the disapproving eyes of the court. Perfect. Wonderful. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?_

Loki is not usually one to seek attention, but Thor is entirely certain that Loki actually is confident as he takes his seat, and Thor loves to see it. 

If he didn’t know better, he would say that Loki was _preening_ — despite the loud whispers of court which are picking up around them and the fact that Loki never appreciates the attention, especially when negative, as these whisperings surely are. After all, Asgard does not appreciate its magic users as Thor now does. 

Loki detaches his arm and Thor watches Loki make his way over to sit adjacent to Frigga, in his usual seat. He himself walks around to Odin’s side, but, upon seeing him, has his anger reignited. _How could Father have made Loki cry over something like this?!_  
  
Thor expects an apology, and refuses to sit next to Odin until it is given. 

He walks to his seat, adjacent to Odin’s, and then he walks past the seat, and around it, to sit on Loki’s other side. It’s not his usual seat, but if it is the price to pay to control his rage and not violently demand an apology from Father, he will make do. 

Odin sputters as Thor walks _past_ him and takes a seat by _Loki’s side._

First Loki with the Norms-damned door again, and now Thor too.

How dare he. 

His own flesh and blood. 

The prince of the realm. 

And he forsakes his position by Odin’s own side. 

And for what? For that insolent whelp?! 

Odin fumes in his seat, and as he does so, tries not to notice how Loki’s face lights up as Thor states that General Tyr can have his seat for today.

“I wish to enjoy this meal by my brother’s side today,” Thor explains, hosting a sickeningly sweet expression as he looks down at Loki, who is already in his seat by Frigga’s side.

Odin looks away and signals for the food to be brought in an attempt to have the food distract him from Loki and Thor, who are hosting equally overzealous expressions of fondness upon them. 

How Thor can stand to remain in the boy’s presence, and after such an open display of magic, is not a mystery, as it is now clear to Odin that Loki’s influence over Thor has grown to be too much. Frigga beside him still has a hand over her mouth and is gaping in shock at Loki. 

Loki, for all his bluster and usual manners, has apparently forgotten to acknowledge her. 

Serving maidens mill about, placing glasses of ale and trays of venison and beef in front of everyone, setting up the tables for the feast, and Odin is feeling uneasy in this hall tonight. 

Loki, on the other hand, is having a nice rousing discussion about truth, honour, and patriotism with Thor, who brought up the topic of apologies and their importance with the hope it would clue Odin in. 

Loki is perhaps enjoying the conversation more than he should be.

“But what if you think you haven’t done anything that deserves apologising for,” Loki asks, innocently.

“No matter the intention, if the feelings of another were hurt, an apology is owed, Brother.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Loki says, “the person should still acknowledge the other was hurt, not talk about it as if they haven’t done anything, or claim their slights are imagined.”

Thor glares at Odin. “I agree.”

In averting his eyes back to his brother, Thor catches sight of Frigga, staring at Loki in utter devastation.

“Brother,” he warns Loki, “It appears you have shocked Mother with your magical prowess.” 

“I know,” Loki says, calmly. 

Thor is confusion. 

Has Mother also done something to gain Loki’s ire? Had Thor missed something last night? 

“Should you perhaps address her and see what matter ails her?” he asks, cautiously, aware that he does not have all the facts, but knowing for certain that he loves Loki and will side with him. 

Especially if his argument with her was also a result of using magic so openly. Thor still can’t believe the criticism Loki has been facing for centuries was so baseless as to fall apart by the fact that Loki does indeed do magic. 

It makes Thor wonder if whispered words such as _argr_ and _soft-hearted_ and _coward_ and _weaker_ were not the insult, but being Loki in itself. Such a strange thought. 

He looks at his parents, and while Thor is angry with them, he knows they would never allow for such a stigma to have built around Loki. 

Surely they have done all they can to reduce the prejudice Loki has been facing? 

“Loki?” Frigga’s voice is tentative and soft and Thor averts his eyes. It is so rare that their mother displays emotions so publicly, and even then it is privy only to those of family. 

Thor does not know how Loki will answer if he plans to hold a grudge. But... Brother never holds a grudge. 

Loki already has let go of the thing with Father. Loki is too forbearing for his own good; always has let slights pass by him, and Thor has respected that knowing that Loki could defend himself, but now he wonders exactly how many times he let things inadvertently bring his brother to tears because he simply did not pay enough attention. 

He has much to think about while waiting for Father to apologize.

Loki picks up the mug placed for him and frowns at it. 

_Ugh,_ _mead_. 

_This won’t do._

_I’m barely underage anyways..._

Under the table Loki swipes a hand to the right. 

“Loki?” Frigga asks again, voice still shaky, but slightly stronger. 

Loki takes a sip to taste his, ah, _drink_. 

Completely appropriate drink for someone his age. Yes. No one will ask what he’s been given or why it’s slightly darker than what he normally gets to drink anyway. 

Loki very studiously takes a larger sip, after the taste proves itself nice. He very pointedly ignores the way Frigga’s hand lowers and her eyes get shiny. He’s got years of recognizing her gaslighting under his belt. He’s only acted out against it a few times, sure, but this’ll be fine. How hard could it be. 

All he has to do is remember that he’s not at fault here. He’s allowed to exist. And he’s allowed to exist as however much of himself as he wants. He’s not in the wrong here.

He puts the large wooden cup back down and turns back to Thor on his other side. 

“Loki.” 

Frigga puts a hand on his shoulder and Loki can’t help but cringe away. 

“Yes?” He answers, turning towards her, very aware of the strange looks he’s getting from the councilmen further down the table, who no doubt have been listening to her earlier cries for him and noticed how he shied away from her touch. 

Not that it matters if they stare.

“Loki, my son,” she opens, and Loki holds back a scoff and an eyebrow raise; her voice is tinged with worry and laced with sweeter honey than Asgard will ever use in its mead.

It’s not that she ever says anything hurtful or especially degrading, it’s more the sweet scraps of care she’s always made him feel he owes her for in return. 

_The smallest hints of treating me like a person and I was whipped._

Honestly, had he really fallen for this when he was younger? Or had he just been afraid to acknowledge how toxic this environment was? Is he the one who should really be blamed for leaving himself in such an abusive situation?

“Are you feeling unwell?” Frigga asks.

He feels his eyes widen slightly in shock. 

They think he’s _sick?!_

_WHat?? How did they jump to THAT conclusion?! I’m perhaps the sanest person on this planet??_

_Well._

Well, well, well.

This is an opportunity for mischief if he’s ever seen one, and it’s actually not often he gets the chance to live up to that moniker, so of course he’s taking it. 

Forget feeling pity for himself, time to be proactive and get back the years of his life that were cut off by Odin’s Jolly Beard of Lies. 

He opens his mouth for a sharp intake of breath and makes his eyebrows lower in a mix of fear and guilt. “Mother, I was going to tell you—” 

“You should have come to me sooner, son,” Frigga cuts in with her soft, caring, most non-accusatory voice. 

_Taking charge of a situation by directing the conversation and laying blame upon me,_ Loki notes. 

He holds back a bitter smile and feels tears prick at his eyes. 

“I know Mother, I’m a fool, I should have come to you last night when it first started,” he says, in his most guilt-ridden, regretful voice. He even makes his voice crack a little. 

He even blinks more than he needs to, but to be fair he doesn’t need to _actually_ cry right now. 

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t even know why he’s getting teary. It is just a conversation. He doesn’t believe he’s to blame and he’s not buying whatever she’s selling, but for some reason it’s getting to him..

And it’s not that Frigga is alive that’s getting to him— no no no, her death had been a surreal intangible experience for him; he’d been told by a random guard who hadn’t even been instructed to inform him and that was all. It had taken him seconds to consider what he’d been told and come to the conclusion that _yes, Odin and Thor would do something like this,_ and he’d accepted that she’d died, but sending Odin to Earth a day later and taking the throne for himself had meant he didn’t really feel the absence of either parent. 

He couldn’t really even call them parents in anything but name at this point, and he’d long accepted that.

 _These tears aren’t for her,_ he tells himself.

“When _what_ started, dearest?” Frigga asks, and if Loki isn’t mistaken —and, confident in his own abilities, he can admit he rarely is— there’s just a tad bit of fear behind the question.

_Good._

“Oh, well, you know,” Loki says, swiping a hand below the table as he notices Odin go to take a sip out of his cup, “the strangest things.”

“That’s… quite vague, dearest,” Frigga says, understandably confused. Loki has _never_ been one to spare words like this. When asked, he answers _clearly—_ he’s had to learn that his voice will be ignored for the most part _—_ Odin has been sure to teach him that so he makes the most of what he gets —and without skimming important details. 

This is how Frigga knows this is truly a serious matter. The poor boy is sick enough to be beating around the bush. Her heart truly aches for him.

If Loki has truly been missing mannerisms because of whatever illness plagues him, it must be more than a simple curse, for she firmly believes nothing less would ever reduce him to that.

Frigga shudders, remembering the time he’d gotten sick as a child and had changed appearance with every cough or sneeze; the boy had given Odin half a heart attack when he’d turned Jotun blue on one occasion. Hopefully this time it is not his magic which is ailed—

Odin, who had been taking a drink, spits his _ale_ out, spraying it across the table, and, notably, all over Tyr’s face.

“YOU—” Odin accuses, jabbing a finger towards Loki, and Frigga’s heart skips a beat at seeing Loki blanch; his lip trembles, and his eyes are a watery grey-green, and he’s so clearly innocent and in the way he looks to her in alarm, without even a denial passing his lips… 

“Husband, dear,” She says, guiding Odin’s pointed finger down, and lowering her voice to avoid the ears of their guests, most of which had turned upon the AllFather’s outburst only to see him angry at Loki.

 _Nothing new here,_ many of them think, and go back to dining, _Odin raising his voice and not even managing a proper phrase at Loki is an often-enough occurrence._

“Loki is indeed _unwell_ ,” Frigga tells Odin, stressing the last word.

His anger immediately dissipates into something less... _fiery_. 

Odin frowns and sighs heavily, mentally postponing his Yell At Loki Time, and adding ‘turning ale into some bizarre sweetened drink’ to the growing list of reasons to do so. Odin is burdened with a glorious list of purposes to yell at Loki, truly. 

A cold breeze passes through the room, and Odin’s frown deepens.

“Very well,” He says, loud enough for the closer tables to catch, and in an attempt to stifle any of their remaining interest in this matter. 

_Yes, Loki is sick, of course, that certainly explains the strange behaviour._ Now that Odin thinks about it, this explains all the smiling the boy has been doing too. 

Everyone turns back to their food, and forgets the King’s outburst. Nothing new to see here.

“So,” Tyr says, dabbing juice off his face with a pocket square. “You were saying that Loki wishes to study the dagger or naught…” he reminds Odin.

“Yes, his trainer is adamant that he is not fit for training in scenarios where he must interact with other youth and I wholeheartedly agree.” 

“Individual lessons with Sir Genelta seems like it would be good for the boy, get some muscle on his bones,” Tyr says, gesturing at Loki’s pathetically smaller-than-Thor’s arms, a fact that is only made all the more apparent by the way they’re clearly _holding hands under the table._

Odin seethes. He has not done anything to deserve such a horrendous sight. 

“Hormones,” Odin says bitterly, as way of explanation, stabbing a chunk of meat with a fork as he does so. He chews on the meat and scowls as his taste buds pick up on a few drops of the saccharine solution that should have been ale which he’d spit out all over his meal. 

_And he’s not feeling well either. I guess._

“It is indeed uncouth for a noble, let alone a _prince_ , to not know how to fight; and even more so that he should give up a proper weapon for something such as spending all day in someplace such as a _library_ ,” Tyr spits, eyeing Loki across the table.

Loki laughs at something and Odin decides Tyr is right. 

Sure, Loki hasn’t _mentioned_ a library, but it is a rather shallow scheme for Loki to pretend he wants to learn a woman’s weapon and it’s quite obvious Loki will just use the extra time when not in lessons to do something as ridiculously petulant as _read_. Whatever mild curse of the mind he’s caught must be dimming his ability to think things through, because this is a rather poorly hidden motive. 

Odin looks towards Thor and finds him angrily chewing meat while staring right at him… which is… unnerving… to say the least. 

Their eyes meet and Thor stabs his fork into the plate.

“That’s a potato,” Loki, next to him, leaning his head on a fist tells him.

Thor uses his knife to scrape the piece of potato off, without breaking eye contact with Odin. He stabs at his plate again, without looking down.

“Goat, I think,” Loki says. 

Thor brings the chunk of meat to his mouth and chews, maintaining the angry glaring at Odin. 

Honestly, where did Thor learn such a thing? Odin is willing to bet this is Loki’s influence on his perfect boy. 

“It was goat,” Thor confirms, his mouth still full of chewed up meat, which Odin realizes shares a shocking resemblance to Genelta’s hair, who is sitting one seat over from Thor.

Thor swallows and stabs at his plate again.

“Loki?” Frigga asks, fruitlessly trying to gain the boy’s attention.

“That one’s a potato again,” Loki laughs out, before taking another sip from his cup. Thor’s idiocy is a good countermeasure to make his eyes get less watery. Or, at least, now when he wipes them, everyone knows they’re tears from laughing too hard, right? 

_He doesn’t LOOK unwell,_ Odin thinks grouchily, _And Thor’s continued glaring is starting to make my neck tingle._ Must be the building static in the air. Odin is so proud of Thor’s ability with magic, but he really needs the boy to leave so Frigga and he can interrogate Loki for details on how sick he is and what symptoms need to be gotten rid of. 

It would _not_ do for this cocky new attitude to stay.

“Loki?” Frigga tries again, to no avail. 

Loki just keeps laughing at Thor’s inability to stab meat while staring at Odin.

“Do you think we could get the doors closed? There’s a rather cold draft tonight,” Tyr asks.

“Thor,” Odin evades, in his Mighty AllFather voice, “why.”

Thor doesn’t stop chewing.

“Why what, Father?” Loki asks, in all his princely innocence, and _by-the-Norns, of course Loki is ill, how_ _had he missed it?_ _The seemingly mocking gestures and tone! It all makes sense now!_

“Thor, why do you stare at me so, rather than eat your meal like every other at this table,” Odin AllFarter clarifies, to Loki’s amusement. 

There’s just _something_ about making Odin clarify odd and mundane things that Loki finds ridiculously funny. It _might_ be the comedy of having a self-proclaimed omniscient being drag himself down to the level of a regular individual. Or maybe Loki just finds the way Odin’s voice never devolves into a growl when speaking with Thor fascinating.

Thor drops his knife and it clatters as it hits the plate. 

“Oh,” Thor starts, and Loki can tell this is gonna be good because Thor is _actually putting tone into his voice_ and _the Other Thor never got to that stage_ and _hoo boy Thor is bitter where’s the popcorn when one needs it_ and _now he’s_ _pointing his fork at Odin_ , “I don’t know, Father, perhaps I feel as if one of you owes the other an apology.” 

_Thor big mad._

And Loki can’t help but smile at the warmth spreading through his chest at that. 

Thor… really _cares_.

Should his chest be hurting?

Now he really wants to hug Thor. 

“Ah, very well,” Odin replies, looking expectantly at Loki. 

_Why’s he staring at me? I haven’t done anything??_

_Wait._

_DID I do something???_

Odin looks at Loki. Loki looks at him. He looks at Loki. Loki looks at him. 

“I ain’t apologizing,” Loki clarifies. 

Thor whips his head from Odin to Loki. “Brother!” he exclaims, shock evident in his voice, as if Loki had said something gravely terrible. 

_What?_ Loki’s shrug says, _all I’ve done is make sure Odin knows he’s the one who is meant to apologize. I’m not waiting all night for him to figure that out on his own._

Loki sees the realization happen in Odin’s eyes and swears that steam comes out of the old man’s ears to accompany the reddening of the old man's face. 

“I— how could you— _THOR!_ ”

Heads turn all around the feast hall as Odin raises his voice and does not even manage a proper phrase… at someone _other_ than Loki… 

“Yes, Father?”

“Thor,” through gritted teeth, Odin somehow manages to get something other than grinding noises out, although Loki wants it on record that the attempt at a tolerant smile is actually a grimace. “Why don’t you, ah, go mingle with the rest of your class while your mother and I talk with Loki.”

Odin gestures a few tables away, to where the younger age group tends to assimilate. Thor narrows his eyes; “I would rather not, Father.”

Odin is very confused. 

This doesn’t make any sense. 

Loki may be sick and Thor may be quite protective of Loki but it has never resulted in such behaviour. When asked to do something, they simply must do it. He is their _father_ , and above even that, he is their _king_. 

He coughs into a fist to buy him time. How else could he get rid of Thor? Bringing attention to the tiny umbrellas scattered through his hair would not do. 

“My son, why don’t you, ah, go remove your armour, since you didn’t change out of it after training.” 

Odin really must reward himself more often for his quick thinking skills. 

“Of course!” Thor perks up, and Odin breathes out a sigh of relief. 

Relief which lasts 0.2 seconds because Thor then turns to Loki and bats his eyelashes and wriggles his fingers and says “Brother? Please?” 

Loki smiles and rolls his eyes. 

Thor just _has_ to make a production out of things, doesn’t he. 

Odin watches in horror as Loki twists a hand in the air, removing Thor’s armour for him, leaving him in his casual underleathers. 

Loki gives him a small smile. He’s never minded using magic to help out, but he isn’t usually recognised for it, or even asked, really.

A strangled noise, courtesy of Odin, elucidates the change in Thor’s clothes.

Odin tries to drink off his nerves at all these sudden revelations (since when is Thor comfortable with magic??? Since when has Loki not looked to a parent for permission to do something like this??? His manners??? When did he rise from the ashes of the shame and humiliation of having his skills acknowledged???) only to spit the horrid _juice_ back into his goblet. 

He’d forgotten his Yggdrasil-damned ale had been lost in the fire. 

“What,” Frigga harshly says, looking pointedly down at Thor’s clothes, “is _that_.”

Thor looks down at his shirt and only now realizes his leathers are stained green, spreading out around his stomach. “Oh! The dye!”

Loki winces; he’d forgotten about that. 

He figured out how to make dyes skin repellant centuries ago— of course he had, how else would be have kept it secret, dyeing is such a messy business, and he would know —so neither of them had stained hands, but there are too many variations of cloth to consider so he usually just dyes things carefully… and he should’ve remembered that Thor has the caution of a Brambleback sometimes. 

And now Frigga has pointed it out and the entirety of the council table is staring. 

_Hachi Machi._

“The… dye?” Frigga says, skeptically. 

_Of course she’s skeptical, if someone told me Thor had even so much as attempted dying cloth as a hobby at some point in his life I’d be skeptical too._

“Yes!” Thor exclaims giddily, “Mother, it was wonderful! Brother showed me how leatherwork is done! It was quite enjoyable! I… I apologize for the mess.” 

“It’s okay, dearest.” Frigga doesn’t let this chance to get some words in pass, after all, Loki is sick enough to be missing when she calls out his name, and the curse must have affected his mind _and_ magic, as the leatherwork and Odin’s drink proves to her, so she must get details as quick as possible. “Loki, honey, what makes you think yourself ill?”

 _Bringing to question the validity of my own thoughts on how I myself feel,_ Loki notes, _classic manipulation tactic to diminish self esteem._

Maybe it would even work and make him feel guilty for needing a basic necessity such as to be relatively healthy… if he wasn’t faking. 

Loki is _very_ aware of the eyes of the entire table shifting their attention from Thor’s dye stain to whatever his reply will be. 

Heh. After all, who else could have possibly turned all their ale into bitter cranberry juice? 

Be it intentional or not. 

(They can’t prove anything)

“My magic, Mother,” Loki says in a stage-whisper, “as of late it’s been… misbehaving…”

‘Misbehaving?’ Odin mouths, absorbing this information and hoping on Hela that his horror doesn’t show. 

“Is that supposed to be funny, Loki?” Frigga sternly questions.

“No, it’s not funny at all…” Loki forces his voice to fade out and everyone in the vicinity who was eavesdropping violently flinches as Loki sneezes, disappearing in a puff of glittery green smoke.

Meanwhile, Thor, who has been continuously glaring at Odin while eating, also jolts, but, almost instantaneously, the shocked silence of the table retreats as Thor coos. 

_“_ Awwwwwwwww _.”_

 _Awwwwwwwww_ , is certainly the only thought bouncing around in Thor’s mind, not unlike a Windows default screensaver icon, Loki thinks, as his brother reaches a hand into the green smoke, from where he extracts a small dark green snake with the shiniest, and surely the most reflective skin he’s ever seen.

Someone shrieks in the background, but Thor only continues to coo as he carefully arranges the snake around his hand. 

Just like Jennifer Lawrence, Frigga’s jaw drops; she looks to Odin in alarm. 

_This is serious,_ the twitch of her mouth seems to tell him, _we must send him to the healers immediately._ Odin nods, this _is_ serious, _however_ , his eyebrows reply to her encrypted facial message in kind, _tomorrow morning, when he is rested._ The slightest dip of her head tells him she agrees. 

Thor gently strokes along the shiny scales of the snake. He’s always liked snakes, although he does not recall ever seeing such a magnificently coloured creature in all his travels across the realms with Loki. He hopes he remembers to inquire more about where Loki got such a fine specimen from at a later time. 

“Thor, put Loki down,” Odin commands, and Thor, who as of yet has still not heard an apology for Loki, momentarily forgets his anger to look at the snake ( _Loki?_ The snake _is_ Loki? Could it really be…?) and even though he’s been busy glaring at Odin and enjoying Loki’s laughter Thor now knows that Loki _must_ be sick because for all his flair Loki never uses magic for shapeshifting especially like this without purpose to reveal the trick and surely it was unintentional because he sneezed and must have lost control of himself. 

Thor coos again and rotates his hand so he can look the snake in the eyes. 

“Brother?” He asks, in awe. It is a _really_ nice snake.

Elsewhere, Odin frowns at the soft tone. 

The snake slides it’s head out of the coiled body and nods. Or, at least, Thor only realises it’s _not_ a nod when suddenly there’s a puff of green glittery smoke and there’s the smallest direwolf pup clinging desperately to his hand. 

“Awwwwwwwww _,_ ” Thor goes, again, ignoring the screeches of some people further down the table, who are apparently averse to having wolves around. 

But Thor has always liked wolves, too. He likes any creature for the most part, as long as they remain in their small forms, and the major reason he doesn’t have a pet is for fear of it growing older and getting bigger. A more minor reason is because it’s considered unmanly to develop an emotional association with— _hang on._

_Odin has TWO crows._

_!?!_

_AND a special steed._

_!?!?!_

He will have to ask about this later. There was probably some of that very small writing Loki had said can provide more information or specify exceptions to rules involved here.

Thor turns the smol direwolf over so it can stand on his arm and brings it up so he can nuzzle against his face. If Loki is sick, he must be feeling horrible, and hugs always make Thor feel much better, so this is surely helping.

The direwolf gives the smallest sneeze, and in a puff of glittery green smoke, Loki is right there by his side again, and Thor is holding him in a hug. Loki wraps his arms around Thor in return and Thor takes it as an invitation to squeeze back. 

“Loki, my son,” Odin says, and Thor feels Loki frown, “you’re not well and perhaps you should go and rest… your mother will arrange for some healers immediately…”

“But Faaaatherrr,” Loki whines (yet even more proof that he is unwell, as Loki never complains about anything!) although it’s muffled because his face is stuffed in his shoulder leathers, “I don’t feeeeeel unwell, couldn’t I pleeeeease have them see to me tomorrow afternoooooon?”

Odin swallows heavily. On one hand, he would prefer Loki to become better as soon as possible (out of… well… not _fear_ ... just… _concern_ …) 

But on the other hand Loki is agreeing to see a healer if it happens tomorrow, and may even get better if only he sleeps...

Loki sneezes Odin and Frigga freeze as a puff of green smoke around him dissipates to reveal… his hair has gotten longer. 

Much longer.

“Loki!” Frigga berates, before Odin can yell the Norns-damned menace’s name himself. _What does the runt think he’s doing now?!_

Courtiers at the other tables are now also looking on to see what the fuss is about too. It’s not often the Queen reacts such, and the nobles are always willing to listen in on royal family drama. 

Asgard doesn’t have many sources of entertainment, although Loki does have a pretty extensive theatre program in mind that he would like to instill in this timeline too...

“Mother!” Thor berates back, as if Frigga had done some great atrocity and he were ready to kill everyone in the room and then himself were Frigga to persist further, using one arm to clutch Loki and keep him stuck against him and running the other through Loki’s _waist-length hair_. 

Odin’s eyes bulge at the sheer amount of hair. _Frigga’s_ eyes bulge at the sheer amount of hair. It’s just… so much… and you shouldn’t be able to alter hair magically at all... even subconsciously… and he’s never done this before… 

Thor continues stroking Loki’s hair until he starts pulling away. 

“Brother?” he asks, softly, in case his sick younger brother may be having a headache.

“Nope, try again.”

_Huh?_

Thor looks at Loki and feels himself gaping. He hadn’t even noticed. It’s small changes but they all contribute to the whole to make Loki undoubtedly female. Had this been an accident? Definitely. Thor knows Loki had sneezed and turned into a snake and then a wolf and then a woman. 

The fact that he wants to be called sister is irrelevant. 

Or is it? 

If Loki is requesting the change to be acknowledged, then why should Thor _not_ acknowledge it?

“Sister?” He asks, equally softly as before, in case his younger sister may be having a headache.

“Mhm,” Loki hums, content, and Thor swears her smile _beams_. 

Thor feels his own head lighten at the surreality of the situation; to think that Loki could be made so happy with such a simple change in phrase. _By Asgard_ , Thor swears; if he had known of this visceral reaction he would’ve started calling Loki his sister sooner. 

“If you are not well, perhaps you should rest?” Thor carefully suggests, in his regular voice, which, unfortunately, is loud enough for the others to catch wind of.

‘Others’ including Genelta, who only now looks away from his plate to see Loki. Except it’s not Loki. Loki is a man. This, this is a woman. 

“Aight,” Genelta says, heading out. He’s feasted enough. Maybe even drunk too much. Either way, he needs a bathroom. 

With his foot in a cast, the man falls over numerous times on his way to the palace’s gilded gold relieving rooms, even landing his face in someone’s plate of potatoes along the way.

“Yes, Loki, you’re not looking too well,” Frigga cuts in, her sincerest of care bleeding into each word.

“Maybe you _should_ turn in for the night, Son,” Odin says, gruffly, still disappointed that Yell At Loki Time has to be postponed. Why couldn’t Loki just _not_ have gotten sick? Must he always create complications?

“Daughter,” Thor mumbles, not that Odin catches it. 

“So you admit it then?” Loki says, loudly, in response to Odin, “that gender expression is not necessarily an indication of identity?”

A few gasps are heard across the room, but Loki isn’t sure if they’re about her question, or about the cold breeze that just swept through the room. To be fair, she doubts many of the nobles understand words with more than two syllables, so the cause is most probably the latter.

After all, the main doors are still open, and alas, it appears there are not enough guards stationed there on regular days to close them.

Such a shame, truly, that no one has thought to do anything about that.

“What?” Frigga laughs nervously, befuddled. “Don’t be ridiculous, Loki—“

“Because if you don’t then I,” Loki gestures to all of herself as much as she can with her arms still around Thor’s neck, “Am female at the moment.”

Loki really really hopes they don’t bring up the fact that she was a snake or wolf a moment ago. It won’t be hard to argue, it’s just that shapeshifting is always an awkward discussion. As if Loki has to share any information about her body with anyone she doesn’t want to.

“Loki, _son,_ go to your room,” Odin demands, “and no more ridiculous talk until you’re feeling better.”

Loki nods. 

The tea is simply too much for them. 

And it’s scathing hot. 

And jasmine. 

(Asgardians _hate_ jasmine tea, although she’s never been quite sure _why_ )

He gets it.

And it’s not her fault that Asgard is so backwards. So why does _she_ feel so bad about it? 

Not the spiders-crawling-over-their-skin type bad, but like a solid weight has lodged itself inside their chest, and it _hurts_ but not in the way it did when from happiness. 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

Not that this response was unexpected; Loki hadn’t thought they would get immediate acceptance, and Loki isn’t sure what they thought presenting as female every now and then would achieve, but they hadn’t thought they would have to blink back tears and have it unacknowledged— although wouldn’t that be the ideal scenario? Should they be grateful that it’s being taken in stride as something laughable? That they have the excuse of being mind-cursed at the moment so this whole revelation can be washed over? That it’s not being treated as a big deal? 

She takes a deep breath in, and finds it unsteady. Everything seems brighter than it should. Maybe she shouldn’t have done this.

She sneezes, and in a puff of green smoke she’s male again. No biggie. She’ll live. 

“I apologise,” Loki says, and is unsure of what compels them to do so. They shouldn’t need to feel guilty about something like this. So why does she? “It appears it would be better for me to take an early leave and some rest.”

Frigga and Odin stiffly nod. They sure hope he manages to get his magic under control. Maybe he could meditate for a while? They've heard that idleness is a good method for quieting unruly magic. 

“Yes, okay,” Loki’s chair screeches as they push it out, away from the table. “Goodnight, fare thee well, may the light of the stars guide your sleep, perhaps you shall all awaken on the morrow more enlightened.”

Loki stands, brushes a hand over their leather armour to smoothen it out, then starts heading around the table to the door. 

At least they know the leather armour still works like a charm.

Kudos to designs which conceal how stretchy they can be. 

Back at the council table, Loki hears Thor yelling at Odin, probably about something mundane, but they can't tell because people turn to stare and whisper as they pass through the feast hall and they’re distracted by how much they don’t like it. 

They hear Thor’s chair drag across the gold gilded floor, and as they approach the small doorway leading to the living quarters, Loki prepares to sneeze, because, again, it’s not often Loki gets a chance to cause mischief, and they need to cheer themselves up. They didn’t decide to stay in the past only to wallow around in their own misery. Things don’t just instantly change. They shouldn’t have tried to just start presenting differently. Or like that. Or all at once. 

Loki guesses they had been so caught up in the euphoria of Thor accepting them that they lived in a world where Asgard’s gender prejudices didn’t exist. Well, that’s not on her. She makes her way out, ignoring the court’s eyes. 

_No one would stare at me like that when I was Odin,_ they think. _Then again, I never sneezed and turned into a wolf or turned people’s ale to cranberry juice when I was Odin._

Back at the table, Odin and Thor argue.

“—you need to stop doing things like that.”

“No.”

“Wha— what do you mean, _no_?!”

“Loki is _sick_ , Father, you can’t ask me to stop _caring_ for him.”

“All I ask is that you stop touching all the time.”

“I was hugging her! She’s unwell! And all _you’ve_ done is be angry! and _not apologise!_ ”

“Dear, I know Loki looked like a woman just then, but you know that doesn’t make him a girl, yes?”

Thor narrows his eyes at Frigga, “that’s not what she said when she asked me to refer to her as one.”

“Darling, there’s nothing wrong with him, and that’s not how it works.”

“Pray tell, Mother, how it _does_ , then.”

Odin slams a fist to the table, “This is ridiculous, Thor, people can’t just decide to change gender whenever they wish it.”

“Loki can.”

“No, he can not.”

“She just did. We all saw that, didn’t we?”

Odin slams a fist to the table again, as he knows no other means of emphasis other than yelling. 

“He’s sick and his magic is acting up, Thor! He didn’t mean to do it, and if he asked you to call him a girl I’m sure it was in jest, or because his unbalanced mental state is making him delirious! Or who knows what else!”

“Are you saying Loki is _mad?!_ ”

“Dearheart, all we’re saying is that he’s unwell, and his mind will return afield soon.”

“She,” Thor corrects, “ _she’s_ unwell, and _she_ will get better soon, may the Norns have it willed so.”

“Thor!” Frigga chastises, “you can’t just invoke the name of the Norns for things like this!”

Thor looks to her in confusion. Then he decides he’s done having this conversation because it’s going nowhere; He should just go after Loki and see if he can help there. 

“BECAuse Norns-forbid I use the naMES OF THE NORNS FOr something you don’t approve of, right?!” He exclaims angrily, pushing his chair out and rushing after Loki. 

“That is no way to speak to your mother! To your chambers, young man!” Odin calls after him, and Thor clenches his jaw to prevent a retort.

Odin is still his king and father. He cannot blatantly disrespect an order, no matter how reluctant he may feel at heart.

He continues after Loki, hoping to reach... him? Her? Whatever. He hopes to reach Loki before they turn into their own chambers and he is forced to turn the other way. 

His questions about boob windows can wait. Loki is upset and to Thor’s dismay both Frigga and Odin have part in it and he can’t even hug Brother better and Odin didn’t even apologize and Frigga just said Loki was _wrong_ and Thor doesn’t even know if he can help but he’s got to _try_.

Loki sneezes as they step through the doorway, and across the feast hall Odin and Frigga both flinch, to the amusement of much of those in attendance at the feast who were lapping up the family drama as substitutes for their juice-ified drinks. 

Their flinches also make much of the crowd struggle and fail to stifle laughter, much to the King and Queen’s chagrin. 

Thor tries to follow after Loki, but Loki bolts the second they make it through the doorway and is out of sight by the time Thor reaches.

He grumbles and returns to his own empty chambers and begins his nightly sword posture ritual, trying not to think about how lonely and sad Loki could be in his (her?) room right now. 

He completely misses the reaction of the mighty AllFather when it is revealed to him that not only is his eyepatch now hot pink in colour, but so is his beard and all the other hair upon his head. 

He completely misses the reaction of the forgiving AllMother when it is revealed to her that not only is the entirety of the inside of her mouth blue in colour, but so is the inside of her nose, ears, and eyelids. 

He completely misses the way Loki sits with his back to his chamber door and bitterly laughs, thinking that nothing has changed, that surely he’s the problem, that things will always be this way.

(He completely misses the way Loki assures herself over and over that other’s thoughts don’t change anything about her, that _uh, yeah, I sure hope I’m a problem_ , that she is allowed to exist and feel the way she does about things, even if how she feels is plain hurt, or overwhelmed, or like crying, or kicking a wall, or just laying face-down in bed until she falls asleep.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, praise Thor, give feedback on how Loki is being presented, call out the nobles for tuning in to channel Royal Family Drama, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself. >:) 
> 
> The sneezing thing is based off [ This Amazing Art ](https://that-sweet-jester.tumblr.com/post/633708509741105152/when-it-hits-you-that-raising-a-shape-shifting) by @that-sweet-jester (seriously, go check the comic out, it's very cute)
> 
> WARNINGS: soME PEOple use incorrect pronouns for Loki, and there's a tiny dose of Loki maybe doing it to themself as well, because they're used to presenting as male when people are around and aren't incredibly dysphoric about it and are comfortable presenting either way. It's more the idea of the pronouns being rejected right off the bat that makes Loki feel bad.


	11. World's No. 1 Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not tht odn is a good refrnce point,, but,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya folks,
> 
> I promise the main plot will turn up eventually, but until then, here, take this, 
> 
> >:)
> 
> and casual reminder that I have a wonderful beta (@stellophia on tumblr/ao3) :D

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half blood.”

The voice rebounds sharply against the ice structures of the throne room, ensuring Laufey can hear every syllable with startling clarity, even while sitting idle on his throne. 

King Laufey turns his head to the cavernous opening directly ahead of the throne, and, looking down, watches an… awfully small silhouette approach. Like, this person is _tiny_. The smallest silhouette Laufey has seen in a while. 

“Part-breed. Mongrel. Cross blood. Whatever you want to call it” —the shadow waves a hand absently through the air— “although I personally like to think of myself as a hybrid.”

 _Okay, so you’re a mix of a few races, what about it?_ Laufey wants to ask, but restrains himself. 

_There is clearly a personal story attached here._

When Laufey only narrows his red eyes at the shadow in response, the man continues monologuing. 

Laufey lets him. 

This person is clearly here with a purpose, and also very clearly needs to talk some things out, and managed to miraculously make it this far without any scouts picking up on him, which is a feat on its own, so Laufey watches, silently, trying to glean any information about the intruder that he can.

“Only the finest elements of Aesir enchantment, Jotun blood, and... whatever your Queen was,” the man says, stepping forward into the light, a startlingly well-kept eyebrow raised. 

Laufey wonders if he plucks or waxes them. 

Laufey does not startle at the peachy skin tone. Or the eyebrow raise. Or the revelation of being partially Aesir. 

The boy is a good 2-3 feet shorter than himself, and although it is not exactly a common occurrence, Jotunheim _does_ still receive visitors from other realms.

Occasionally. 

And crosses between realms weren’t always an uncommon thing, even if the past millennia or so has made them more unheard of. 

Bringing up his queen is a strange thing to do, but understandable, and Laufey will not question it. Her soul moved on from this world centuries ago, and he won’t think ill of her for not telling him she had another kid. 

Honestly, the most startling thing about this child is the way he’s walking; it’s like a combination of sneaking and strutting, and he’s got a certain spring in his step which leaves him with an incredibly distinctive stride as he makes his way closer to the throne. 

He’s also not of age to be an Aesir warrior, nor does he seem to have the natural build for it which most Asgardian children gain in their adolescence. And yet, here he is, having found a way other than the Bifrost not only to have found his way to Jotunheim, but to have also walked himself straight into the throne room. Even his attire _barely_ manages to be Asgardian. 

_Very peculiar,_ Laufey thinks, _almost enough to garner a reaction, but, then again, would anything at this point?_

 _No,_ Laufey rests assured, _nothing can surprise me anymore; I’ve dealt with waking up to a bedroom floor made of magma, so an unusual Aesir child strutting his way into my throne room on a Saturday morning is nothing._

Having elicited no real reaction from Laufey, Loki decides to, as one does, try, try and try again. 

He doesn’t really have anything to lose here: the bar of his expectations buried itself in the ground years ago the last time his heritage had been revealed and he learnt exactly how big of a liar Father 2.0 had been, so why not. 

He needs to get his mind off this morning anyway. 

_Just. Try not to think about it._

Hopefully things will have died down by the time he gets back to Asgard. 

_I even left a note explaining things! It’ll be fine! And if it’s not, what are they gonna do about it? I’m a realm away._

“Hello?” Loki says, kinda annoyed that he hasn’t gotten a reaction out of the man. 

Surely the announcement of his heritage deserves _something_ , right? He’s not sure _what_ , exactly, but he expected more than just staring. Loki logically decides to wave his arms around. 

“HellooooOOOOOOooo? King Laufey? Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” 

The King looks over Loki disapprovingly and raises an eyebrow.

 _Oh,_ wonderful _, here we go, I’ve managed to be a big disappointment to all my parents twice over now._

“The throne room is off-limits to citizens,” Laufey warns, _finally_ opening his mouth and providing a verbal response. _About time._

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know,” Loki says, placing one hand on his chest in mock affront. “If I see one I shall inform you.”

Laufey sighs, “only royalty is allowed in this room, so speak your peace, end your overly enthusiastic gesticulating, and leave.”

Loki folds his arms behind him. 

It’s not his fault he gets expressive when he’s nervous. Not that he’s nervous right now. What’s there to be afraid of? Rejection? Ha! Been there, done that. 

“I’m still not seeing why I shouldn’t be here,” Loki argues. Was he not clear enough in announcing his parentage? He thought he made it quite obvious. Unless Laufey is denying him as his child right off the bat. 

That would make sense. After all, you don’t abandon a child on a frozen rock to die unless you’re disowning them, right? 

_But Loki,_ his voice of reasoning argues, _Odin is a lying liar who lies._

Damn. Can’t argue with that logic. 

And the voice is right, anyway; Odin couldn't even keep his recounts consistent in the future-past so there’s no reason to think any of what he said is true. The only way to find out the truth is to ask Daddy Dearest himself. _Which is why you’re here,_ he reminds himself. 

“ _Jotnar_ royalty,” Laufey corrects. His voice is deep, and heavy, and he sounds just slightly exasperated, at least to Loki. 

Loki is too satisfied in getting an inflection out of the man to be hurt at the implications of the correction.

Loki takes a deep breath, and smiles, spreading his arms out. “Why, Father, you wound me.”

Laufey inhales sharply, not loud enough to be audible from where _Loki_ stands, but Loki catches the shift in the air as the temperature drops like in every dubious online story where a character has elemental powers.

_This is not the time to be thinking about tropes!_

_In fact, this is quite possibly the worst time to be thinking about fics in general!_

_I have class tomorro— later today!_

Loki zones back in just in time to note Laufey’s... anger?

_Weird reaction but okay._

As Loki had been fighting an intense internal battle Laufey had too. 

You see, he’d been finding this child’s antic amusing; endearing, even. But now Laufey is confused, and maybe even a bit angry, because this alleged _Prince of Asgard_ has taken it too far. 

Laufey has only had three children, and _one of them is dead_. 

Furthermore, Laufey has heard of _the Mighty AllFather_ ’s children, and while he is grateful that it is not the infamous Blonder Dumber Prince that has come to his doorstep, he is _very_ aware of Loki’s reputation as a tactician and mage. 

Laufey rises from his throne and closes the gap between them; he lashes out, grabbing Loki around the throat and slamming him into the wall of ice that makes up the throne-room wall. 

“You are a deceiver!” Laufey snarls, disregarding his neutral expression for one that hopefully conveys what a huge mistake the Aesir foul-blood has made in trying to mock him. 

For trying to mock his _dead child_ , killed by the AllFather’s hand at the closing of the war.

Who _does_ that?! Who shows up in someone’s _home_ to taunt them about a _murdered loved one?!_ What kind of _monster_ casually _strolls_ into _another realm_ just to make light of how a _baby_ was _killed?!_

Held up against the wall by his neck, Loki has the gall to laugh. “You have no idea what I am.” 

The blueness of his _actual_ skin spreads out from where the king’s bare hand makes contact, and Loki grins as Laufey’s face morphs between outrage, sorrow and confusion. 

Loki had read up on Jotun customs while acting as Odin, but there were, not to his surprise, hardly any factual accounts about anything in Asgard’s library. Luckily, other libraries exist, and he’d learnt much about the general culture of Jotunheim. He’d love to know more, and firsthand data has always been his favourite (ask anyone who knew him during his boat-crashing phase), but if Laufey turns out to loathe him because he was an abandoned runt who couldn’t even die properly then Loki has no compunctions against killing him. 

He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. 

He can pull a knife out of his outfit any time, and, since he’s blue now, he can even make ice weapons. He’s got the power of ice and knives on his side. 

Loki is ready for the worst outcome.

And he’s decided he’s going to have fun either way. 

Meanwhile, Laufey, King of Jotunheim, Master of the Poker Face, is _actually shocked._

Who in the name of all the realms jokes about baby murderers?! _Your child, apparently._

He’s been raising two downright magical menaces on his own, and _this_ shocks him, because those are indeed his Queen’s markings on his face, and this means that Odin, _the AllFather_ , has been _raising his child_. 

And isn’t that just a terrifying thought? 

_I still don’t know if he’s mine,_ he argues with himself, _the younger prince is known for his cleverness, it could be a trick,_ but Laufey doesn’t know any other race in the Nine that can remain unharmed upon being burned, so there is no doubt he’s partially Jotun at least, and now that he’s closer to the kid it’s hard to deny that they look alike; Laufey curses his cheekbones.

It’s pretty difficult to deny the cheekbones. 

Laufey removes his hand from Loki’s neck, dropping him to the ground. 

Loki lands softly, and inconspicuously brings a hand up to rub at his neck. Not that getting choked could kill him —that’d be ridiculous, everyone knows the first thing a good mage does is make themselves difficult to kill, and Loki is a _Master_ of Magic. _Oh wait_ . No, he’s not. _Gah!_ He’s going to have to file an _application_ now, and sit the dumb test, _again!_ But, anyway, a little neck grabby would be a downright _hilarious_ weakness for a magician of an already ridiculously-hard-to-kill race— but that doesn’t mean he didn’t feel it. 

Loki has a sensitive neck and doesn’t particularly like being touched randomly anyway. 

It’s a personal choice. 

Had been so before he fell into the void, and remained one after.

Laufey turns his head and stares at Loki with narrowed eyes. It’s an awkward few seconds of silent eye contact, but then Laufey opens his mouth.

“Take your tunic off.”

Loki blinks. 

_What_.

_I’m not— I’m not taking my shirt off!_

Is this a distraction? What kind of tactic is ‘take your shirt off’?! 

Loki is kinda wishing Laufey had kept his mouth shut now.

 _Did the kid not hear me?_ Laufey frowns and reaches a hand out towards Loki’s leather top. 

“H—hey!” Loki startles back, crossing his forearms over the front of his chest, forming ice knives in his hands as he does so. “No touchy.”

Laufey isn’t going to lie; the movement was fluid, almost as if practiced to perfection, and the fact that the Prince knows how to use his biological ice magic at all despite being raised in the Land of the Racist Thieves… it’s _impressive_.

“Then could you please remove it yourself?” Laufey asks, patiently gesturing to the boy’s incredibly un-Aesir outfit. 

_Do they really let him run around to fight in that?_ Laufey wonders, _did Asgard become really chill about a bunch of things really quick while I wasn’t looking?_

“Mind telling me _why_ I should start stripping?” Loki questions in return. 

And yeah, maybe Loki’s being a bit blunt here, but he doesn’t care if this guy is his father, you don’t just ask him to take his shirt off out of nowhere! That’s weird! Next thing you know he’ll be asking him to take his pants off too! What if he takes his shirt off and Laufey asks him to remove his pants too, hmm? What then?!

“Well, Prince Loki, the Jotnar have a resistance to cold—“

“Just because I’m blue doesn’t really mean I’m in a titties-out kinda mood.” 

Loki belatedly realises how that could sound to the man in front of him wearing only a leather skirt and fur on his arms. “No offence meant, of course. What _you_ choose to wear is your own choice, and _I_ personally would rather keep my tunic on.”

Laufey blinks. “I… I’m going to ignore that first part. And the second too, since I’m not sure how offence would be meant. As I was saying, you won’t freeze, and your paternal lineage should be written over your torso.”

Loki’s eyes widen. _Ah, so he wasn’t being weird. I may have just misread the situation. Oopsie daisies._

_Loki would still rather keep his shirt on though._

“I… would still rather keep my shirt on though.” 

Laufey looks down at his apparent son. He… has something against taking his clothes off? 

It’s understandable that he wouldn’t want to take his armour off in a dangerous situation, but does he really think Laufey would attack him knowing he’s his son? Or perhaps it’s not the situation that’s the problem? Perhaps it’s just a personal preference? Or perhaps Asgard has treated him horribly all these years? Perhaps he’s got self image issues? Or perhaps Laufey is reading too much into it? 

“I, ah, could create a replica body for you to examine? I can assure you either way that there’s nothing weird on my chest though… I don’t even have marks there, it's just my hands, along the arms, round the shoulders, neck, and face.”

Laufey gives Loki a discerning look and Loki hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous saying that as he feels. He’s pretty sure he sounded fine. It’s not weird to list where all the ridges are. It’s his own skin. So why does he feel so watched right now? 

He notices he’s fidgeting with his hands and folds them behind himself. When did he unfold them to begin with?

“A body double could be tampered with.”

_Ah. So Laufey knows I’m a mage._

_Wait, no! Idiot! I’m the one that offered to make a double! Why did I do that?!_

“And if I promise not to?”

Laufey barks a laugh, and shakes his head. “I promise I won’t touch, I just want to see your back to confirm things.”

_‘Your back’_

Loki cannot recall ever checking his back. To be fair, though, when practicing ice magic and getting used to the fact you’ve got a body you’re not used to seeing as your own, the back isn’t the first place you look. 

And Loki wasn’t particularly fond of being reminded of his time with Thanos either. Would he still have scars? If his body is younger then he wouldn’t, right? Well, that’s a plus; he won’t have to make up excuses for torture. 

Loki closes his eyes and conceals a deep breath with a sigh. “Okay.”

This… will be fine. It’s okay. Nothing is wrong. It’s perfectly normal not to wear a shirt sometimes. He knows that. Of course he does. 

That… doesn’t make him feel any better. 

His skin crawls just thinking about it but, hey, worst case scenario, he just kills Laufey after. Thor walks around shirtless in front of people all the time. 

It’s not a big deal. Besides, Loki can’t be overprotective of his skin, he knows how strange that sounds. Asgard tends to be a tactile place; loads of back-slapping and chest-thumps. 

But what other choice does he have here? 

Being uncomfortable for a few seconds will be worth it anyway. 

Laufey watches the boy turn around, and the material sparks green as it fades, leaving his back bare. 

_Lo and behold,_ Laufey thinks, mind still processing the swirls and corners that end in a point half-way down the boys’ back, which matches with both his other children and himself. 

Given permission to scrutinise the pattern, Laufey is also sure to note how scarless both the child’s arms and back are. You’d think there was a reason he had been refusing.

_What were you so afraid of showing, Loki?_

After a few seconds the boy rolls his shoulders. “You done?”

Laufey realizes Loki is trembling. Not much, just a bit. He clears his throat. “Yes.”

“Fantastic!” Loki says, clapping his hands as he spins back around, un-blue-ing himself as his clothes rematerialize. “So you’re my father? Confirmed?” 

“I— yes,” Laufey says, throat tight. He’s not about to cry. It’s just— he thought he was _dead_ — but he’s very much alive and is growing into a capable young adult and he’s so proud of that even if he regrets not being able to have seen it happen himself.

“Do you mind if I just—” Laufey gestures vaguely to Loki’s leather armour, to ask if he can touch it. 

“Sure…” Loki says, looking down, caught off-guard by the question; people don’t usually ask if they can touch his clothes. It’s weird to ask, but, to be fair, the layered leather texture _does_ look nice, and Loki would know. “Just don’t freeze it because I put real effort into making it—” 

Loki is cut off by Laufey dropping to his knees and crushing him into a hug. 

Laufey’s fur collar is surprisingly soft. Loki would know. His face is buried in it. 

“You… made this yourself?” Laufey asks, voice cracking, and Loki ignores what he’s pretty sure is a sniffle to answer. He can’t see Laufey’s face so maybe the man isn’t crying, right?

“Yeah, I, uh, like to dabble in things,” he says, putting his arms around Laufey’s chest too (well, he can’t fit his arms around the man, he’s a _giant_ , but it’s the thought that counts, right?)

“It looks really good,” Laufey says, “I couldn’t even tell it was homemade.” 

Now, Loki definitely heard a sniffle that time, but, you see, he’s a bit busy trying to inconspicuously blink away his own tears, so he doesn’t mention it. 

The hug is fine. It’s actually nice. Who’d’ve thought the King of the Frost Giants gives good hugs? 

And Loki is 90% sure the hug isn’t some wack method of killing him so that’s something to think about too… but… Laufey just _complimented_ his work. 

For all the effort Loki puts into his outfits, people tend to assume appearance is _a given_ for him. And, sure, Asgard is literally the worst reference to go to in terms of anything to do with the arts, but he’s _never_ had anyone react well to that. People just don’t appreciate creative outlets on Asgard if it doesn’t involve smiting your enemies or eating more boar than someone else. 

It’s so very boring. 

Even Thor had been skirting around the leather until Loki showed him the tiny hole-making hammers involved.

“Thanks,” Loki laughs, somehow managing not to get choked up over the word.

He just likes making things. 

It’s fun.

And he’s also… got a father now? Who doesn’t sound like he minds that he tailors for fun? 

And it doesn’t matter how horrid Laufey could possibly be because there is literally no way he could be worse than Odin and Frigga were and this is amazing and… he didn’t plan this far… but… can this even be real? 

Life has never gone easy on him. 

Could it be possible that Laufey is tricking him? What would he have to gain from this though? If he’d wanted to try killing him he’s had multiple opportunities. 

Loki slides a knife back up his sleeve.

“Thank the Norns that Asgard taught you _some_ skills,” Laufey says, squeezing him harder. 

_Oh I learnt skills alright,_ Loki thinks. 

“I am so _so_ sorry for whatever you’ve had to deal with alone— _”_

Did Laufey just _apologize??_

Even now, in a hug, Loki tries to silence the part of his mind blabbering on about how the man could be faking. If that’s the case, he’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it. 

_Why does this hurt? Is being happy supposed to hurt?_

How can Laufey _say_ things like this? Is this allowed?

Loki takes the apology in silence. When Laufey gets to know him better he'll regret being nice. He knows it. So, for now, Loki hugs Laufey back and tries not to think about how he can’t recall the last time anyone gave him a sincere apology. 

He doesn’t deserve apologies anyway! And he doesn’t need them! He regrets nothing! He already decided! 

Besides, he wasn’t _alone_ on Asgard! He had/has a family there too! They’re maybe not the best family! But they’re definitely…….. _a_ family.

Loki does what he wants! He doesn’t apologize! And he doesn’t accept apologies! It’s not in his nature! He’s decided! 

He tries to focus on the hug.

It’s nice. He should enjoy it while it lasts. Thor’s the only other one he enjoys getting hugs from, and the oaf just dropped to second place on his list of decent huggers. 

“I thought you were dead, we all thought you were _dead_ — _”_ Laufey places his hands on Loki’s shoulders and pushes him an arm's length away, to examine his face. “Are you _okay?_ ”

Loki becomes very aware of the tears the fur was smudging around his eyes but makes sure he’s got a poker face on. 

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? How did you get here? Was it safe? Please tell me you didn’t risk your life just to come here. And why now? Is everything okay? Do you need a place to stay? No _,_ forget I asked that, you’re staying, I’ll get a room set up with heating and everything— _”_

Loki can’t take this. I mean, yes, he loves being wanted, would love being told he’s important and has worth and is simply _enough_ , but, other than being wanted by the law during that year jumping between space duels and torture, he’s not used to it. This is crazy. He spent his whole life striving for validation and now his actual biological father is handing him everything he could ever want on a platter _— Hel!_ The guy is going to get _a heating system_ installed in his _ice palace_ because he _wants Loki to stay_.

Loki just showed up here to sort this out because he had some time between ditching the frowning magic tutor and signing himself up for a proper magic school. He’d thought he’d have to kill the guy in a worst case scenario, and in a best case one leave without a fight after being disowned, and then proceeding never to have to think about Laufey again.

Loki pushes himself further from Laufey and finds himself let go immediately. 

Funny, that.

You see, on Asgard, people don’t tend to care about the little things in life; such as when Loki doesn’t want to be touched anymore. 

Loki laughs. “Right, well, this was fun, but I’m afraid I’ve got to go…”

Laufey’s concern is tangible.

Loki’s pretty sure he can feel it in the air. 

This is crazy.

“Wha— _Why?_ Is everything okay?” 

Oh, great, now he feels bad for worrying the King of Jotunheim. 

What has his life become.

_ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_

As if feeling happy that someone cares for him, but also sad because it means he wasn’t unlovable and everyone just chose not to care wasn’t enough, now he’s gotta feel bad for being on the clock and can’t even tell why his eyes are stinging anymore. 

_Come on, Silvertongue, time to placate the king of the frosties._

Oh no. Is that rude? Is there a protocol for things you shouldn’t say or do or think towards your parent?! Should Loki have brought a commemorative mug?!?! _Oh Norns I need a guidebook._

Later. 

He’ll worry about Parent Protocol later. 

For now Loki is running late for an appointment. Well, not _late_ , per se, but he wants out of here right now and needs time to process. Yep, he definitely needs time to process.

“NothingiswrongandI’llbebackIpromiseI’vejustgottodealwithsomepeople—” Loki says, hoping that’ll be enough to excuse himself.

“Who do I need to kill?”

Loki is touched, really, but he’s leaving now before it starts raining on his face. 

“Speaking of ‘killing people’, I may have stabbed your scouts and whoever else I saw on my way here,” Loki says, making a dash for one of the cavernous openings into the throne room that he entered from. 

“YOU WHAT?!” 

He doesn’t look back as he jumps out the opening overhanging a large drop. 

Ah, yes, misdirection. Works every time, Loki thinks, opening a portal between realms as he falls, and lands in the corridor right outside the office of the Asgard Royal Mage Academy’s principal. 

He knocks twice and patiently waits, magic-ing up some tissues to wipe away his tears, sincerely hoping his eyes don’t resemble _Fallen Angel_ right now. 

It... probably wouldn’t look too good if the school’s first impression of him involved anything relating to Alexandre Cabanel. 

Meanwhile, back in Jotunheim, “ _LOKI!_ ” Laufey calls out, half because _he didn’t even stay to eat or meet his brothers did he just not want to be here or was it just too overwhelming for him?!_ and half because _the boy just leapt over a huge drop is he okay?!_ and half because _did he just say he stabbed people as an afterthought as he made his getaway?!_

Laufey stands in his throne room trying to be angry or annoyed at the boy, but all he manages to do is laugh, lighter than he has in decades. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve three beautiful sons, but he can’t wait to tell the other two about how fabulously baffling _Loki_ is. Or how creative or resilient or smart or downright precious. Or about how their unnamed younger brother is actually alive and a _Prince of Asgard_ (and yes Laufey plans to interrogate him on how Asgard treated him later— who knows what horrid side effects something like _that_ could have...)

He also can’t wait to tell them about how small the boy is. 

Or perhaps he should withhold that information from them for now… it would really be such a shame if he conveniently forgot to tell the boys how tiny Loki is… hmm...

 _It’d be fair payment for stabbing my guards_ , Laufey thinks, as he makes his way to the healing room to tell them about the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want it on record that Loki did *not* stab anyone :)
> 
> As always, feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, key-smash about how Loki has cried two chapters in a row now, give feedback on literally anything, point out how much better than Odin Laufey is, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself. 
> 
> :D


	12. Temper Tantrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frigg :( od :( thoor >:( lok ?:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all.
> 
> This chapter specifically was beta'd by both @flowingriver24/@flowing_river (tumblr/ao3) AND @stellophia (tumblr and ao3) because of reasons.
> 
> Enjoy :D

She taps her foot. 

She looks to the tapestries strung up against the wall. 

She straightens out the bed sheets. 

She fluffs up the pillows. 

She listens to the sound of water.

She stares at the door.

Frigga sits, in their shared private chamber, alone, and fiddles with the folded parchment in her hand. 

And she waits.

She’s not sure what prompted this, but, despite this kind of behaviour being unprecedented, she has her ideas. 

Missed breakfast? It could _perhaps_ happen, and Loki _was_ evidently unwell last night, and Thor had had him holed up with him the night before the last, so assuming he needed to sleep a few extra hours wasn’t much of a stretch for something that may have, in some rare unheard-of case, have occured.

It was still an... _oddity_ that he did not attend. Thor had eaten and unusually waited before rushing to the training grounds, seemingly slightly worried for Loki’s attendance, a fact that did rather show in the way he did not greet Odin a fine morning. But Thor’s anxious waiting is of lesser importance. 

Because she is a caring mother, she couldn’t see her little lovable magic-tank go hungry. Frigga had asked the help to request the cooks prepare and send something to Loki’s chambers. 

But instead of an _‘it has been arranged, AllMother’_ upon the serving girl’s return, Frigga received a _‘the kitchen staff wishes to respectfully inform you that Loki has already eaten.’_

Which is ridiculous, because if Loki had been able to act as if he were of health he would have shown up at breakfast, if only to appear in the throne room and demonstrate it. It makes no sense for him to have visited the kitchen earlier! 

Another inquiry brought her the information that Loki had shown up in the early morning hours and _picked out_ fruits to eat. _Only_ fruits. No bread. No meat. 

Loki is _not_ well. He is very _very_ not-well. Likely life-threatening so because Frigga can think of nothing less that would dissuade him from kindly showing at breakfast and then further so being _picky_ about what he eats.

Frigga eyes the parchment in her hand and tries not to be too anxious about it. 

Both she and Odin witnessed Loki’s behaviour yesterday. 

He is physically well. He is extremely physically well and it is blindingly apparent that they have neglected to accredit him the fighting prowess he retains. With the heaviest of hearts, however, Frigga must accept that Loki’s mind and magic are both far afield. 

The issue with the magic is clear; despite the innate magnitude of his magical abundance, Loki has never been taught to safeguard or regulate or maintain or surface his magic. It leaves him vulnerable to the most basic of curses and Frigga hopes on the Norns that it is one of those which has captured Loki’s magic, because anything more than that will not be healed through the breathing exercises Madame Frowa has revealed to him.

The fact that he hasn’t had a magical slip in centuries and suddenly cast such a realistic but ridiculous change in hair was admirable, but a flaw. It should not have happened. Admirable it may have been but the illusion —for it must have been one— had hardly lasted half a moment anyway, so it’s not as if either she or Odin had realized it had made Loki appear female for those instances. 

No, _that_ they had found upon Thor’s hysterical farce.

Frigga huffs a laugh.

Her little Loki, always so fond of things he ought not to be; first the ridiculous gift of reading out of curiosity, then the talent to go with his delightful magic, then as he’d grown older his build, the unshakable idea of using daggers, _by Asgard!_ even his choice in tunics has held closer resemblance to women’s evening-wear than traditional Asgardian armour. 

However farcical the happenings of last evening may have been, Frigga had gotten Odin to excuse everything. Even the pink hairs and absence of fermented beverages at the feast. She argued that it was only fair as Loki’s magic is ill and he very clearly had no say over how his magic manifested and was upset about it as he had left the feast early, so Odin had, naturally, left the matter to rest. 

Although Frigga does find it rather endearing that he had turned into a woman. _Such projection! It is merely indicative that our plan for the realms is still accomplishable,_ a part of her thinks, while a smaller portion her conscience refutes the fact that she decided not to let such a rumour carry. A single comment by the AllFather to the hall apologising for the absence of his Sons as one was sick and the other worried for him had the incident mostly forgotten. 

Degradation of this sort, while useful for diminishing self esteem, likely would not have been received well by Loki. Not if his occasional proposals at previous morning teas are any indication; _women_ in _court!_ Ridiculous, really.

That brings Frigga to the fact that Loki’s mind is greatly ailed. 

She bites her bottom lip and begins unfolding the parchment. 

Upon discovering from the kitchens that Loki had not only already eaten, but done so an hour in advance, she, an instinctive feeling building within her heart, had rushed to the room set aside for Loki’s sessions with his teacher Master Mage, where he should have been for his weekly scheduled lesson. 

And she had found Madame Frowa, sitting alone within the room, holding a parchment with distinctly _Loki_ fold marks in her hand, using said page to fan the hair out of her frowning face. 

She had dipped her head in respect and Frigga had asked where Loki was and received an answer of “Oh? You haven’t heard?”

“Heard of what, exactly?” Frigga had asked.

“He quit.”

“He… _Loki,_ quit? Loki _… quit?_ He can’t quit, these are classes! And he loves his magic!” 

“You haven’t heard…” Madame Frowa solemnly said, bowing her head and holding out the page in hand which Frigga promptly snatched. 

She’d unfolded the letter and read through it in mute horror as she’d made her way to the throne room and requested Odin see her in his mid-morn tea break. Awaiting such a time she has so far read through the letter seven times in total, wanting to ensure her thoroughness in the matter. It will be for the best to commit it to memory and destroy the evidence.

Frigga rises as Odin marches into the room and she lets out a sigh of relief that the wait at least, is over. 

“I have five moments, woman,” her beloved husband greets, “make it snappy.”

She holds out the parchment and explains as aptly as she possibly could: “Loki’s gone mad.”

“We already established that last night,” he says, unfolding the note. “It was why we initiated the next phase— what is this?” 

“Loki didn’t show up to breakfast or his magic classes.”

Odin grunts, but is clearly more enraptured by the letter open within his hands. 

Frigga doesn’t blame him. Even now, the words of the letter flash before her eyes, taunting her like an ill-advised dream. 

_My Dearest Beloved Lady Frowa,_ the letter started, inconspicuously enough; typical Loki, mild-mannered and sweet-tongued with respect as always. 

Until you continue reading. 

_You will always hold a special place in my list of magic teachers. At times, it felt as though these classes were the best thing that would ever happen to me, but, lately, everything has felt wrong. It doesn’t pain me to admit that our relationship no longer has any love from my end, and it isn’t fair for you to be stuck teaching a student who finds there is nothing you may teach._

And that was where Frigga had initially found herself confused, as Loki’s interest in the art is a trait he is _notoriously_ ambitious of. His indication that he would not regret this, that there was nothing to be taught, that he would have a list of magic teachers… she feels the dread settle in her stomach, as she worries for Loki’s mental health above all else.

_I hope you are able to move on, and find a student who will love your teachings the way they deserve to be loved. In apology for the late notice I have attached a year of payment. Just to ensure it is clear that you have been fired._

He thanks her for her service to him so far, as the Loki she knows, but the blunt clarification of the lost job is just so unlike her boy. Frigga isn’t sure where or how Loki got the means to pay the fees. She is entirely certain that Loki would never manage any sort of actual labour, nor does he have the means with which to attend something such as a _job_ , and why would he when everything is given to him here at home?

And then, of course, the final words.

_It’s not you, it’s me._

_\- Love, Loki._

The sign off is clear enough, as Loki would have been ingratiated to his teacher for the magic she has taught him as his only source of knowledge for it, so the personal touch is appreciable. The ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ however, leaves Frigga questioning many things. The confidence exuded through the note culminates into this single sentence declaring _himself_ at fault. That Loki _knows_ he’s at fault. And yet, there seems to be no _weight_ behind burdening such a thing. 

As if it were a mere jest to spurn the lessons Frigga had arranged for him. As if Loki would just start displaying disobedience after centuries of them caring after him. Their plans for the poor boy are being pulled at by the seams and this newfound belief in himself and, well, it has to go. Unless of course, this is simply his rebellious phase? Frigga firmly recalls Thor’s years of adolescence, filled with unbridled adolescent rage and clothing of the darkest shades of dyes. She hopes Loki will be milder mannered in his fashion choices than Thor had been.

Odin’s nostrils flare as he presumably finishes reading through it, and she is grateful he understands how dire the situation is. 

Odin throws the leaflet aside and looks at her.

“He… as in, _Loki?!_ Quit? Loki _quit?_ He can’t quit, those were his classes! And he loves his magic!”

“I know,” Frigga replies. Because she _does_ know. 

“Magic teacher _s_ , as in multiple?!” 

“Correct,” Frigga assures him, raising her own hands, “And I suspect I am not included in that list.”

“He’s gone mad,” Odin AllFather, wisest man in the Nine Realms concludes.

“Yes,” Frigga AllMother says, “that’s what I just finished establishing.”

“We must separate them before this corruption spreads further; already I feel Thor slipping from our grasp.”

“That’s what the next phase was _for_ —“

“Where is Loki?” 

Frigga blinks as lightning flashes through the room dramatically, “Not at his lesson.”

The words hang between them like a limp fishing rod.

An eerie silence continues and the dread settles itself like a spider unable to hide itself in a really shallow sandpit and is only broken by a light rumble of thunder. 

“Thor?” she softly mouths, looking towards the window. It is a rare occasion his elemental magic builds enough to influence the environment around him, and is oft due to emotional turmoil, which Frigga, for one, finds very displeasing. If it were up to her, Thor would already have the Uru hammer; she doesn’t see the need to delay passing on the magic amplification tool as it’s focus for magic would prevent such outbursts of _weather_ from him.

“Thor?!” Odin loudly mouths, looking towards the window, “What’s happened _now?!”_

“Do you think he has noticed Loki’s absence?”  
  
“No, the boy would’ve been at practice— he probably lost a round—” 

The loud crack of splintering wood and screaming announces — _what Frigga assumes is_ — Thor’s entry into the shared chambers, and she shares a look with Odin. 

“Should I?” she asks, gesturing to the closed door. 

But, before she receives an answer, the loud crackling gets closer as he... stops to knock. 

Odin nods to her, and she answers it. 

“YOU!” Thor growls, his voice heavy, the force of the staticity and light winds crackling over his skin slamming into the room like a hit to the entire body, “THE BOTH OF YOU!”

Frigga takes a few steps back at the display and tone. She can’t believe it. 

Another tantrum.

_Another!_

Just last month he’d overreacted and put on a show at a feast, and now here he is _again?!_ Frigga exhales deeply to calm herself. 

Thor has, _apparently_ , not grown out of his childhood anger issues and leaving him a warrior dullard for the most part doesn’t seem to have helped at all.

“What ails you, Thor?” she asks, in as polite a voice as she can manage. She has no intentions to be used as a lightning rod to sate his violent urges.

“WHERE IS LOKI?!”

Odin coughs and Frigga gives him a glare for it. _Useless men,_ she thinks, as she opens her mouth to explain. 

“Your brother’s lessons would only have just ended, I’m sure he’s around…”

“HE ISN’T!” Thor yells, the crackling fizzing out as his expression shifts from anger to something more akin to panic, “He TOLD me he’d meet me after practice, we were to go HUNTING—”

“I’m sure Loki has simply gotten late,” Odin drawls, calm, with only a tick at the side of his mouth to give away his underlying anger. 

He too finds this drama unnecessary, especially over Loki being late for a field trip. 

The both of them had noticed Thor pacing across the banquet hall in the morning, clenching his fists with worry, but they also had hoped he would let the matter go to rest with some time clearing his head in training. 

It would appear not. 

“You _both_ HURT Loki and now he’s _GONE,_ ” Thor says, his voice cracking at his brother’s name, and Frigga reacts with a soft smile rather than the eye roll she would prefer. Such theatrics, really. They get old and are a nuisance. “Why could you both not _just APOLOGIZE?!”_

Thor’s panicked anger gives way to worry, as all he can think about is Father and Mother’s behavior the past few days and how _upset_ they had made Loki, how Loki was _absent_ in the morning and hadn’t eaten, and how Thor had left his classmates at the grounds early to search the library and still _not_ found him in the _usual_ perches. How he could be _anywhere_ but most importantly _he wasn’t with Thor_ when this afternoon that they _always_ spend on a hunt, that Loki _isn’t here_ and he knows _once a fortnight_ they ride out, but instead Loki is _absent_. 

“He could be ANYWHERE, and he’s not _HERE_ and you don’t _even CARE—_ ”

Odin waves a hand, ignoring Thor’s harshened breathing, “Why don’t you take someone else with you this week since Loki hasn’t shown? What about those classmates of yours.”

Frigga nods to show she agrees. “Or you could just go another day.”

And Thor wants to scream at them for even _suggesting_ such a thing— he wants to argue that it’s not a _hunt_ if _Loki_ isn’t _there—_ that he can’t just _go anyway_ — it’s _different_ — how could they _not_ worry for Loki— he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides and walks around the room trying to get his frustration out but— he’s not moving enough— all he can think of is the way Loki fled to their room last night with tears glistening in their eyes— Odin hadn’t even allowed him to be at his Loki’s side— 

The room doors slowly creak open. 

“I sensed a disturbance in the force,” Loki says. _And in the altitude of the entire palace,_ he doesn't say. “Is everything fine—”

Thor rushes to get his arms around his brother, causing Loki to stagger back a few steps. 

Thor is too busy hugging Loki because _he’s here now_. 

Loki widens his eyes and wraps his arms around Thor in return, rubbing his brother’s back because he’s not used to all these hugs he’s receiving today, but Thor’s ragged breathing is _not okay_ . _What exactly is going on here?!_

He holds two fingers pointedly towards Frigga and Odin. 

“What did you both do?!”

“We—” Odin starts, breaking off when Frigga takes over. He lets her. She was always better at handling _emotions_ . The King holds back a petulant sigh. And handling _Loki_ too.

“Loki, dearheart, how come you haven’t reported to the infirmary yet?”

“Library,” Loki answers, which isn’t a lie… it’s just a conveniently shaped truth… he _did_ stop at the library on the way here, after all. (It’s the only place he can send officiated mail from, and one does not simply email the Mystical Sorcerer Guild), “I’ll head down to the healers now, although I must warn you that I doubt anything unusual will be found with me at all ever.”

“Loki,” Thor says, voice rough, which is when Loki realises Thor is crying and feels his head start hurting from holding back rage. What in the name of Zelda the Princess of Light and Time happened here?! He’d only been gone one morning?! Asgard never cared for him this much before but he moves a few centuries into the past and suddenly they do?!

He gives Thor a nod to let him know he’s listening without interrupting. 

“Can we still go hunt?”

 _Hunting?_ Loki wonders, before recalling a time where he and Thor would regularly venture out together in search of adventure. _Ah_. 

“Of course,” he assures Thor, “but I’ve got to go to the healers first.”

He makes to move back out the door before anyone decides to question what/why he was doing for the past hour in the library, but Thor, sniffling over his shoulder, moves with him. 

“Thor I’m just going to the—”

“I’m coming with you.”

Loki breathes out a laugh, incredulous. “If you want, Thor.”

“I do,” he answers, walking towards the door, which is inconvenient for Loki, because he’s dragging Loki backwards. 

Odin coughs, eyeing his son, and speaks in a low voice to Frigga, “He’s calm, and Loki’s back and going for a checkup. Is that all?”

Frigga curses. Odin has to get back to court. 

“I’ll check on his results once they’ve left,” she tells him.

They watch the children hobble awkwardly out the door —irritatingly maintaining a proximity too near each other in Odin’s opinion but he manages not to spit at them— and close it behind them. 

“If it’s incurable,” Odin says, his infinite measure of life experience resounding in his voice, “I’d rather know sooner than later.”

Frigga nods, clinging onto the sliver of hope that all the symptoms of Loki’s sickness are temporary, even if she fears the worst. 

Odin shifts his armour, settling the circular plates properly over his breasts, and straightening out his collar. 

She holds out a hand as he leaves and he takes the time to bring it to his lips before making his way through the shared chamber and down the hall towards the throne room. Odin ignores the splintered door and furniture on his way down. The fizzling of burnt wood is surely in his head, and if it isn’t, Frigga will get the servants to fix everything by night.

———

Loki walks into the Healer Lounge, smiling uncontrollably. 

It’s quite humiliating how much Thor’s hand on his shoulder means to him, but he can’t straighten his mouth out long enough to hide it. 

_Well of course not, how much else of me is straight, hm?_

He’s immediately ushered into a room to the side —which he likes to call the rich privilege room because he’s never seen it being used as an actual emergency room ever— where he’s asked to lay on his back as a soul forge is started up, and does so before the healers decide he needs to be helped to it. Thor removes his hand and Loki knows it’s to pace along the side of the slab as he gets checked up.

“You sure you’re fine?” he asks, again, because Thor is _trying_ to be the older invulnerable brother, but Loki is so far past believing that it’s comical that he’s even trying. This Thor doesn't even have a beard and his hair barely goes past his ears. He is the babiest he could be in Loki’s eyes. So while he appreciates the denials, he knows Thor is still restless. He’ll just have to wait it out and there’s nothing Loki can do.

Loki wordlessly holds out an orange paper umbrella in offering when the main healer’s back is turned, and Thor accepts it to occupy his hands. Thor’s always preferred action to waiting.

The soul forge lights up, pulling away diagnostic readings of his body, and Loki’s Aesir physiology immediately reminds him of his earlier time in Jotunheim. His successful enrollment in an actual magic school (!) followed by the worry upon seeing Thor’s signature mood ring (the sky) changing colours for the worse had made it easy to forget. Thor had calmed down at his arrival, so Loki presumes that he himself had been the cause of Thor’s distress, and not the wet patches of parents that Frigga and Odin were, which is why he spared them his anger. He also didn't stick around because the magical lesson matter seemed to have died down and the news taken well.

_I actually went to Jotunheim and confronted Laufey._

_And, unlike Odin, the man wasn’t a crooked flagpole._

_He was... nice?_

Well Loki hadn’t stuck around enough to gauge much, and it could still be an elaborate setup, but _holy smokes_ Odin is a bigger brickface than Loki’d thought, and Loki hadn’t thought zilch about him before, but _I have an actual family._

A few healers mill about and Thor, keeping Loki within sight the entire time, notices when Loki’s breathing increases rapidly for a moment at the thought before he can decide to ignore the entire interaction for now. 

The head healer for today smiles but her silence tells him the spike wasn’t a problem. 

Loki concentrates on his breathing, and focuses on thinking about his admission to the Asgard Royal Mage Academy. He doesn’t have time to panic about _having a father who cares_ or how _he killed the man in the last timeline_ or about that fact he said ‘we thought you were dead’ which means he might have a living mother or that Loki has _siblings; actual real life real blood siblings_ — he catches the healer smiling to herself as his pulse goes up again and he shoves the thoughts of the ice realm aside. 

_Later_ , he tells himself, _I have time._

Besides, he looks to Thor— or he tries to. The healer (Loki only knows the head royal one, Eir, and has no clue who this one thinks she is) forces his head to continue facing straight up. Rather harshly too. He scowls. 

Couldn’t the lady tell he was in the middle of addressing how Thor was also his brother even if not by blood? How dare she interrupt him! Most _productions_ would never even take the time to address previous issues or provide actual closure or resolutions to finish character arcs, and here Loki is, working his way to his own conclusion, the world his stage, and he’s _actually working towards moving on_ , and this random person who _clearly hasn’t taken the time to know him_ thinks they can just lay a hand on him and destroy something that beautiful?! Who does she think she is?! A white, balding, middle-aged film producer?!?

The _nerve_ some people have.

How did she even get into such a leading position with this attitude towards people in her care?

“How long, exactly, does it take you to check the mind?” Loki asks her, sweetly, bringing a hand up to rub at the parts of his face she has touched to alleviate the warm tingling left behind. 

“Well, Your Highness,” the healer says, primly, which would annoy him if the gender-neutral term of address wasn’t a plus point for her, “Everything seems to be in working order, but we’re trying to access the workings of your mind and… we’re encountering a block.”  
  
 _Ah, they must’ve tried prodding into my memories._

“You don’t need to look into that, it's magic compatible with myself, yes?”  
  
“Well, yes, but also no,” she counters, hesitantly, “Her Majesty the Queen requested a thorough inspection, including motor function, memories, magic functionality, trauma response centers,” —she goes on but Loki winces at that one. 

Yeah… there’s no way he’s pulling down his defenses for this, because 1. He doesn’t want to, 2. He doesn’t need to fail a mental health test to know he’s a tad bit messed up (and he’s been working on it! That doesn’t mean he wants to be reminded of things!), 3. It’d be a huge giveaway.

Brimming with the confidence of a Master of Magic that has been stripped of their Master of Magic title, Loki decides to stare blankly at her. 

“Mother told me that would be unnecessary.”

“She... assured us it is very necessary just this morning...” the woman explains, making it clear that while his confidence may override her unsurity, Frigga would be chasing up these results to good through. 

_Dagnabbit, Mother, why couldn’t you care a bit less._

Does it make him ungrateful to think in such a way? Yes, but it was also incredibly inconvenient to have to dismantle his protections for something as mundane as a checkup. 

After a few moments of getting rid of the blocks Loki sighs lightly. “Fine, go ahead.” 

A new section pops up on her reading screen and Loki puts far more effort than should be required into not laughing as she accepts that everything in his head is fine. (Magic, so useful.)

He’s told he can leave and Thor takes the opportunity to sling an arm around his shoulder almost as immediately as he puts his mental blocks back up. He is _not_ freaking out and making sure they’re back up properly as they walk out of the door. 

“That took soooooooo long,” Thor whines, throwing his other arm around Loki’s neck and burying his head into his shoulder. He minds, but it’s not too uncomfortable. He knows this Thor wouldn’t hurt him so he can ignore the urge to get the contact off him. He _wants_ to ignore the urge telling him the touch is bad, that it hurts, because it does, but he _knows_ it _shouldn’t_. It doesn’t make much of a difference to how he feels, but he can let it slide. Thor’s had a rough day by the looks of it anyway.

“To the armoury?” Loki checks with him, still unbelieving that he’d forgotten that they used to have Saturdays scheduled for hunts once upon a time, while very pointedly avoiding making one of several dirty jokes that come to mind. 

_I’m underage,_ hits him like a brick to the face, just like it does every time he remembers that. Not that Asgard is strict about alcohol or he’s going to sleep with anyone, it’s just… weird to remember. Annoyingly enough, it also means he’ll have to wait till his birthday before he can try and officially submit any new laws to court for consideration. (And that all his stashed pocket dimension knives are just slightly bigger than what he’d prefer, but he’ll manage.) Which is really unfair because he’s got centuries on baby Thor and it’s nearing the end of the year so he thinks he should be allowed to qualify, thank you very much. 

They walk into the armoury, Thor still leaning down into Loki, and find the Warriors Four standing around, armour already on, clearly intent to join them in their journey. Which, _no._

“Ah! Thor!” Volstagg calls, “A guard told us that you could use company—”

“Mmmrph,” Thor says, any words smothered by his face pressing into Loki’s leathers.

“Sorry, what was that? Didn’t quite catch it with your…” the man replies, looking uncertainly to Loki for a brief moment.

Thor turns his head slightly to the side, “I said, let me ask Loki.”

“Prince Thor, that’s… not how it works, the guard was sent from the King himself—” he tries, but is cut off by Thor turning his face back to Loki. 

Loki, for one, is happy with this development. Not particularly with the hugging, but his attitude towards the others. More than happy, he’s _relieved_ to receive confirmation that Thor has no interest in them. Mindless followers were never a good influence on Thor.

“Loki says no,” Loki says, with a smile he knows is just a tad bit too sharp and gleeful. It is _very_ satisfying to have Thor's support.

Sif scoffs, but that just makes him happier and more convinced to keep staring at them til they leave. 

Until Volstagg lets out a hearty laugh and gestures to “the lad’s acting” and Loki’s smile drops in horror as he goes from _no, my face is perfect for smiling wickedly, what is wrong with you_ to remembering that he’s two years younger and it’s far less intimidating to pull off anything and be taken seriously when your face is still round and people dismiss you completely because you’re not an adult 6ft+ tall war criminal in more than one layer of armour.

He looks to the ground and is on the verge of a crisis here when Hogun agrees that Loki’s face is too ‘mild-mannered’ for such a sinister look and Fandral laughs along. 

“Will Thor be using his regular sword?” Sif asks, smirking as she holds it out hilt-first.

Loki takes it, “You’re still not coming with us.”

“That’s not what King Odin AllFather implied.”

Loki, to her visible shock, rolls his eyes.

“Look I appreciate the gesture, but Thor wants to go slay some beasts and we always go alone and you’ll most definitely waste our daylight time,” Loki explains. 

Sif looks like she’s about to make some inane argument so before she can get a word in, Loki continues, waving her goodbye, “Plus, we’re already gone.”

The brothers fizzle into a glittery green-gold, leaving Sif outraged, Volstagg confused, Hogun grim, and Fandral with a laugh at his lips.

“Gotta appreciate good showmanship,” he explains, coughing, his amusement dying down when he realizes no one else in the room found it funny. Well, no one they could see. 

Thor and Loki wait till the group decides to go continue practice at the training grounds and leave the room before Loki removes the invisibility spell with a swish of his hand.

Thor can’t wait to start waving his sword around, and he still feels a burning hot rage at the thought of his parent’s actions and words, but with Loki encouragingly listening to him complain about his morning, he manages (until an appropriate time to start swinging his sword around, with his brother by his side).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip Loki's intimidation factor 😔😔😔 it will be missed 😔😔😔
> 
> As usual, feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, diss Frigga and Odin's parenting skills, give feedback on literally anything, talk about asexual Loki becoming more relevant from this point forth, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself. 
> 
> :D!


	13. Freudian Dick Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif, please, get a job. oh ,wait, no, hah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, *leans against wall* come here often? 
> 
> I'm just happy plot is commencing 😄😄😄
> 
> Enjoy :D
> 
> (Warning for casual homophobia from this point forth, mostly just references in this chapter but the topic will definitely be addressed strongly in future chapters. There's a warning summary in the end notes for anyone who may need it. )

“Both of you against me to start,” Sif says, pointing her sword to Volstagg and Hogun in turn, “And then we’ll rotate.”

The boys look at each other warily before slowly making their ways over, and Sif does her best not to let this vex her. 

They’ve been treating her differently since her secret came out, and she absolutely _hates_ it. She _loathes_ it, wants to wring the neck of the person who outed her, and the fact that she’d been given the chance to try and still had failed simply made her evermore _agitated_ . Because, somehow, for some reason, Loki of all people had seen through her perfect disguise which had successfully kept the fact she was female and training to be a warrior hidden for years. _Years!_

The one condition of being allowed to do what she wants in life, and she blew it by getting caught! That’s years of academy fight training, wasted! All because some suck-up C-grade fighters can’t deal with the fact that she’s able to fight just as good as any of them, and that she was granted permission to be here too, but is also a woman.

Hogun unstraps his mace and holds it to his side, ready to fight. At least _he’s_ taking this seriously. Volstagg still hasn’t taken out his axe and is looking unsuredly at Fandral, as if the blond flirt is going to get a say in the matter, and as if they _all_ didn’t challenge Loki just yesterday, or as if two against one would be an unfair battle because she is a woman when she has proven she has a place here twice-fold.

Sif is about to tell the larger man to get his head in the ring when the palace back doors open for a pair of Einharjar who head their way, yellow capes billowing behind them.

Hogun lowers his weapon, and Sif almost growls at him for it. 

She doesn’t, because she isn’t that uncivilised, but it's the thought that counts. 

The guards remove their hands from their sheathed swords, placing them across their chests for an instant before returning them to their sides. 

“King Odin AllFather demands your presence.”

Sif looks to the ground, as the shame of silence descends upon them. After all, they hadn’t been able to set out with Thor today as they were asked.

“Understood. Thank you, kind soldiers,” Fandral says, shamelessly giving them a two-fingered salute and wink, and Sif sighs. 

This day just keeps getting worse. Already Thor had been distracted all morning and then left practice early because he wanted to ‘look for his brother’, and then it had rained over them ( _rain!_ Of all things!) and _then_ a guard had told them the AllFather wished for them to accompany Thor on a hunting trip for the day, and _THEN_ Loki had come in the way and ruined that too. 

Sif sheathes her sword with the aire of one with attentive practice in such an act, and leads the way following the guards around to the entrance of the palace. 

She hopes the King will not rescind her right to continue training because it is now known to others that she is a woman, but if he tries, she is prepared to prove her worth as a warrior.

She does not have the privilege of doubting her place here.

\---

The four of them kneel before the throne, heads bowed. 

The shiny gold-gilded marble-patterned floor reflects the evening light just so, that looking at the ground as they are gives them a distorted version of their own faces. She is reminded of her short dark hair which she guesses she’ll be able to start growing out if she won’t have to cover it all the time. 

“You failed,” the King states, and Sif is immediately distracted from her distorted reflection and winces. It’s true, but he shouldn’t say it; at least not so bluntly, as it was not a failure due to lack of attempt. 

“You have not managed to accompany Prince Thor on his hunting trip this day, as a goat is unable to speak at a banquet table where it is being served.”

Sif winces again, harder, and is grateful they must keep their heads bowed so it is not visible to the King.

To her left, Hogun speaks up, voice betraying no emotion as always. “Permission to justify our failure, Your Majesty?”

“You may try,” King Odin says, and she sees everyone raise their heads as she does from her periphery. 

“Thor did not want us to go with him,” Hogun says.

When that is all he says, Sif decides to elaborate (Hogun has always been short for words; must be a Vanir thing). 

“Thor had Loki with him and he used magic to prevent us from joining them, because he didn’t want us there.”

(She leaves out her suspicions that Loki did the vanishing trick because she’s a female warrior. And that he’s envious of her ability to fit in with the warriors whereas he does not even classify under his own wants for magery.) 

Odin hums and the sound bounces around the throne room like the incessant buzzing of a very disoriented large fly.

The silence after concerns her. 

Is he disappointed? Surprised? Will this affect her place as a warrior? She wants to ask and her heart is telling her _yes, you should_ but her mind is screaming _NO!_ _DON’T DO IT!_

Sif opens her mouth, and decides to fill in the quiet; she _hates_ the quiet anyway. Just like she hates the idea of having to spend the rest of her life sitting on a stool _embroidering_. 

“It’s because I was there—” she blurts, “—They probably didn’t want a woman to join them in their hunts— Loki’s always been—”

“Are you a dullard?”

Fandral next to her lets out a snort in a clear attempt to avoid laughter.

Sif looks up the steps to Odin, and his neutral expression _terrifies_ her. It could mean anything! She thinks she misheard the King too because—

“Are you?”  
  
“Beg pardon, your majesty?” 

“You failed, the reason is inconsequential.”

“I— I understand,” she says, making sure her chin remains lifted so she can keep looking at the AllFather. 

She is _not_ a coward. 

“The lot of you have not managed to succeed even combined,” Odin continues, “How can you be trusted to watch Thor’s back and be a band of shield brothers, if you cannot even ensure his safety in something as simple as a hunt?!”

“Shield brothers?” Volstagg asks, his voice clearer than usual.

“To Thor?” Fandral squeaks.

“Us?” Hogun says, his voice too higher, the only thing betraying his stony face. 

Sif remains silent. Where did they _think_ sharing special training privileges with the princes and avoiding guard training was leading? But what keeps her silent is the absence of any mention of shieldmaiden, of Valkyrie, or warriors in arms. Women on the battlefield in the past? More likely than some may today think, and yet Odin has very deliberately said _shieldbrothers_.

“You have failed this realm and its future king,” Odin continues without acknowledging the brimming questions, “I believe I told you all that the needs of my heir should be your top-most priority as he will need those who support him.” 

Sif notes both Hogun and Volstagg nodding at the criticism, as if it were fair. Even Fandral looks to the floor in shame, which is shocking, because she hadn’t known he has any of that.

“Sif especially,” she perks up at her name, but is sorely disappointed as Odin continues, “As I had hoped that a young woman in her prime would be able to appeal to Thor and join the hunting party at the least.” 

_‘Young woman’_? 

_‘Appeal to Thor’_?!

Is this all her use was to the group?! To be seen as a woman and nothing more?! She could beat the other three dolts in combat any day of the week, and is now being singled out for not forcing her way _between brothers?!_

 _‘Join’_? 

So it’d been rigged from the start and Odin had known Loki would be with Thor! And of course Loki didn’t see the need for them to join the party as he had held them all back well enough on his own just last afternoon! 

Her face heats up and she barely manages not to stand and raise her sword against Odin. 

Why are men like this? Never listening and always eager to presume?! Everything was fine mere days ago when she’d been Sof, and now everything she’s been working towards has been stolen. 

“How can you all be relied on when he takes the throne? To call yourselves his closest companions, his friends?”

The door they were escorted through opens behind them and Sif tilts her head to see the silhouette through the light. Behold, a man; Heimdall enters the chamber. 

Sif scowls. 

_Another one._

His footsteps echo through the room, clanking as his armour shifts as he makes his way, and when he stands before the throne beside them he does not kneel. 

_Prat,_ she thinks, pointedly in his direction. 

He may be able to see everything in the realms, but her thoughts remain her own. _Prat, prat, pratty prat, crispy rat, prat prat, crisp prat._

“Sire, you demanded my presence?” his unmistakably deep and distinguished voice says. _Like warm honey,_ she has heard people describe his voice, _like dark hardwood newly furnished, like a woolen shawl given voice in the winter, like a hearth in the Great Alf library_ — Bah! She _despises_ it. _Her_ voice has never been such described, and he always makes his deeper when she’s in the room, on _purpose_.

“Ah, Heimdall, yes,” Odin addresses, _as if he was not in the middle of talking with HER before the prat entered the room,_ “The boys are out hunting alone and Loki hasn’t been well as of late; you must report all recent and future unwonted behaviour directly to me.”

“Loki appeared fine enough not a few days prior,” Heimdall replies, and his concern is tangible, “He _did_ fall face-first into the Bifrost ereyesterday after an orange portal spit him out, and he spent a few jaw-dropping moments walking unusually... _normally_ , but that was all.”

Loki fell face-first into the Bifrost?! Eh. A coloured portal?! Experimenting again. Odin mulls over this information and he’s drawing a blank. None of it seems unusual. The change in walk… is definitely _something_. Did the healing halls check him for a concussion? They likely did, and Loki’s got a thick enough skull to rival Thor’s anyway. No need to consider it, just Loki doing Loki things. Just a one-off. The Jotun should be congratulated on being able to do something normally for even such a short period. 

Odin hums in thought. Whatever could any of this mean? Loki hadn’t ever caused such trouble or brought such disgrace upon himself before… the chances of something so odd coinciding with his strange behaviour… 

"I presume he has since returned to his typical gait?"

Heimdall dips his head slightly as a yes. 

“And this face-falling… something you would say is a regular occurrence, or an outlier that should perhaps not be taken into account?”

Heimdall dips his head again. “Will that be all?”

“Indeed, that is all for now, fare well in your watching, GateKeeper.”

“I serve Asgard and the crown,” Heimdall recites.

“Then do so vigilantly.” 

“Constant vigilance, always,” Heimdall agrees, his deep voice rumbling through the room as he leaves, agitating Sif to no bounds.

There is a beat of silence. 

“As Thor’s future wife you mustn’t be docile enough to hold no sway on something as insignificant as a hunting party.”

She feels all three pairs of eyes turn to her as she whips her head from Heimdall’s departure back to the throne Odin occupies. 

Wife? Future wife?! _Future WIFE?!? W I F E?!?!?!_

Sif takes a deep breath in and releases it angrily. 

It’s okay, maybe there’s been a miscommunication here. 

buT WHO GAVE PERMISSION— HOW DARE— _NO!_

“Do my parents—“

She can always tell her parents she doesn’t wish to go through with this proposal.

“It was discussed amongst the conditions, yes.”

Sif grits her teeth to bite back a frustrated yell. 

She doesn’t want to marry Thor! She’s never wanted to! She respects him, he is her prince and she knows enough about him to trust him capable, and of course she cares for him, but she’d not spent centuries studying the blade to be an appealing bride. His support of her continuing training as a woman had been much appreciated, but it doesn’t change that she doesn’t even want to get married! She’s not yet 1500! All she’s ever wanted is to become older and become a Valkyrie. Yes, she knows how that sounds, the Valkyrie haven’t existed for millennia, but a team of women sounds wonderful! A prestigious qualification where she’d be respected in her desired field of fighting, where— _hopefully_ —she would not have to tie herself to anyone, least of all Thor, the most marrigible person in the realm. 

Of course she hadn’t been allowed to fight for herself! Of course her training had been conditional on something as inane as this!

“Is this avoidable?” She asks, feeling her voice weaker than it has ever been before, as the inevitability crashes down upon her. 

The King’s expression does not change but his tone as he replies carries the message of _it is unimaginable why you wouldn’t want this when millions of girls would die for this opportunity_ well enough. “Unless Thor himself finds fault in this conjunction there is no such reasoning.”

Well, Sif just isn’t one of those millions. 

She wants to live her life. She doesn’t want to get married. And she’d choose Thor over a death sentence, but…

_I’ll just explain this situation to Thor, he’ll understand, and he’ll reject me, easy._

“Does Thor know?”

The question catches Odin by surprise and the “No, we wish to tell him in our own time,” he announces relieves her much.

“I understand,” she says, taking a step back, her head bowed in a show of respect. (She has learnt to keep a calm demeanor, at least, as anything otherwise would be considered out of place as a woman— just another reason to be irritated.)

“It would also be best you not tell my sons about any future tasks placed upon you all by me as well…” King Odin AllFather continues, and Fandral finds that a rather odd little tid bit to paste onto the entirety of the rest of the conversation but he lets it slide. 

He guesses it _would_ be pretty strange to tell Thor he’s getting married to… Sof. Sif now, and as apparent, always, but Sof nonetheless. It would be strange indeed to even explain how they know of this engagement to begin with…

Fandral catches himself grinning at the thought and straightens out his face. It wouldn’t do to be happy in the presence of the King, he might berate him for nothing but imagining his son’s face when he finds out… 

“We understand, my King,” Sif says, and Fandral murmurs along with the other two lads when they chorus the ‘we understand’ after her. 

“You are all dismissed,” the King taps Gungnir to the ground, as is custom to start and end all summons, “Do not fail in such a way again.”

They all rise in sync and file out in a line, as is respectful, and Fandral can’t help but think of what a fuss this has all been. 

A busy day, really, and one that will surely be a topic cutting into the time he’ll get to spend with Hogun and Volstagg at the taverns this evening. Will Sif be attending today? Either way, lots of new information, including that they’ll be expected to buddy-up to Thor. He must admit he’d have preferred if the AllFather had picked Loki as his heir, but he may be biased due to their similar ages and because he’s always looked up to him regardless of his clever magic tricks.

Sif trudges in front of him, and she’s pressing her feet into the ground rather angrily in his opinion. 

May as well try and comfort her, then. He still considers her a close friend despite the lies because he sees why she’d had to do it, and Loki had been right in arguing she well-past deserved her place, even if they would no longer be called the Warriors Four on sheer principle.

“Anything the matter, Lady Sif?”

“Just call me Sif, there’s no need for any platitudinal titles, nothing has changed,” Sif grinds out, doing her best not to turn around and whip out her sword, challenging Fandral to a duel which will surely result in his immediate demise. 

Now well on their way back to the training grounds, Fandral hurries to match her pace and walk alongside her, with Hogun and Volstagg walking as a pair enough ahead not to overhear.

“Your sword is bigger than mine, My Lady, I get it, and I assure you man or woman makes no difference to me—” Sif feels Fandral wink at her despite looking straight ahead, and she scoffs, turning on him. 

“I am not going to get married.”

For a few moments Fandral opens and closes his mouth like a particularly obtuse fish. “Well, your choice, of course,” he eventually gets out, although it’s clear he doesn’t see the appeal in Sif’s ultimate goal not including becoming a wife. 

With Fandral’s reputation for taking women since he reached legal age (barely a decade ago) one would think the concept of marriage would be loose as his breeches to him, and yet...

(Not that she’s ever planned to jump into bed with anyone she knows— as far as she’s concerned, they’re all dunces with not an inch of respect for her, warrior that she is. Undeserving of her attention completely. She doubts half of them bathe regularly.)

“Of course,” She echos, looking where she steps on the walk slightly downhill; her mood is bad enough as is and she doesn’t need to trip over.

They continue walking and Fandral wisely keeps his mouth shut for once.

They reach the grounds and spread out to warm-up since they must do so before they can restart sparring. 

Fandral, annoyingly, takes up the space opposite her, because _of course he must._

“So…” Fandral starts up again, and Sif can already feel the jibe coming —one bound to be on her marriage prospects or her position as an eligible bachelor or a mockery of her situation with Thor— “...Do you think I stand any chance with Loki?” 

Sif urgently looks to the side where Hogun and Volstagg are still conversing. 

Instead of screaming _.’Fandral, by Sigrun’s bloody axe what are you thinking just saying something like THAT?!’_ as she would like, she thinks it over. For about a second. Her imagination goes a bit too far in that regard and she feels the disgust making itself apparent on her face. “Why would you want to pick _Loki?_ ” She questions aloud.

“Well, Thor is okay,” Fandral reasons, “but he’s not my type, and I’ve heard he’s taken, besides.”

He flashes her his charmer smile and she’s unimpressed. 

_At least he’s still into blondes,_ she thinks, stretching a hand down and trying to touch her opposite foot. 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” she gets up from her stretch. “I meant he’s weak and his choice of weapon is _daggers for Norns sake_ —“

“—and it’s hot,” Fandral interrupts, nodding sagely as he points an elbow to the sky, pulling it down with his free hand. “ _So_ hot,” he moans, and Sif doesn’t want to know if it was from the stretches or a continuation of his sentence.

She’s honestly never been more grateful to have naturally dark hair. 

And be a woman. 

She couldn’t imagine being so obsessed with sex, but now that she’s known as a woman at least she won’t have to excuse herself from tales of their _exploits_. Those always left her uncomfortable enough. 

“Hot like that time I had you pinned down and you tried to kiss me?” Sif asks, only in half an attempt to change the topic. (She does not need to be thinking of Loki right now, not when she’s already outraged he revealed her and she’ll be getting married to Thor.)

“In my defense, I had thought you were a man.”

“Oh, yes, and had I been female you wouldn’t have persisted further for sure.”

Fandral gives a mild eye roll, as if asking help from the sky itself for this conversation, before deliberately eyeing her chest; not that it’d do him any good, her Sof armour is very good for concealment as it simply lacks in sculpted breastplates. 

“I do think it’s rather unfair that you knew about me but did not have the courtesy to share about yourself,” Fandral prompts, but Sif has already answered this question before. 

Sif remembers Fandral beneath her pouting his lips and lifting his head for a kiss that day, at which point she’d panicked and said ‘I don’t like men’ and scrambled off him. It’d been a quick save, and she’d learnt of Fandral’s… _peculiar_... interest in both genders. Along with his favour of blondes. 

“And I firmly recall telling you I won’t marry Thor.”

Sif is once again grateful she has dark hair. It saves her much time she would otherwise spend challenging men to duels. 

Fandral nods in agreement, “Neither would I, but if Thor were a _woman… weeell..._ ”

Sof scoffs at the jest. “Why wonder of Thor being a woman when Loki has demonstrated he is well enough one?” 

Fandral for whatever reason doesn’t laugh at her contribution. Which is certainly odd as the younger warrior oft has a smile at his lips at the very least. 

“You know Loki is a shape-changer, right?” Fandral asks, and his voice is strangely defensive. “His study of magic is _different_ but it means he can take any form he wishes… including a woman.”

Sif throws her arms over her head and stretches them. 

She hadn’t thought of it that way. And it most certainly was known that Loki could shift forms from a young age, even if it is old news. And it would most certainly be a useful ability if she could gain the form of a man...

Sif is unable to picture _Loki_ as an actual woman though. The idea is just generally so bizarre, all things about him considered; the boy isn’t really a warrior, despite defending himself from them all with miniature toothpicking-swords well enough, he doesn’t carry himself as a warrior, nor has he ever seemed particularly apprehensive of reminding everyone of his magic… he’s even gone on to try and incorporate armour and techniques not specific to men of the realm. Loki could make a fine woman in terms of skill, she supposes.

Fandral gives her a sly smile, “Being a shapeshifter would be awfully convenient to make everyone happy…” 

Sif unsheathes her sword. 

“Okay everyone, time to spar, two on one,” she announces, loud enough to go over Volstagg and Hogun’s voices, and well as stop Fandral before he gets any further into _that_ conversation. Men, always so immature.

Hogun and Volstagg look to each other in distress and Sif grimaces. This is going to be a _fun_ sparring session. 

\---

Sif swings her sword at Hogun’s arm and the flat of her blade pushes him to the ground in the direction she’d last thrown Fandral. 

“It’s too dark to seeeeeee,” Fandral whines. 

She’d brought him to the ground a while before and the coward hadn’t bothered trying to get back up.

“I agree,” Hogun backs him up, “I do not want to hurt you when I cannot see my target.”

Weak, the lot of them. They’ve been making excuses the entire afternoon and hadn’t even tried taking on two opponents on their owns. How were they meant to be on-par with and defend the princes if their training was like this and they couldn’t see past her being a woman?! She asked them to miss _one_ meal for the sake of training to be better and they wouldn't shut up about it for a full hour!! They may have accepted she's a part of this group and that won't be changing _(for now—)_ but at this rate they'll all be useless in guarding the prince!! How will they, how will _she_ be able to improve with such sluggish workmanship?!

“There _are_ better things to be doing at this hour,” Volstagg pitches in, clearly as intent to head to the tavern as the rest.

It would seem she’s being outvoted. 

Very well. 

She angles her sword to wipe excess dirt off onto her trousers and sheathes her sword as loudly as she can. 

“Yes, there are certainly more pleasant places to be falling than the ground.”

“Or on you,” Hogun adds, strapping his mace shaft to the weapons wall. 

“I doubt _that_ ,” Fandral says, grinning audibly, and Sif groans as she places her own sheathed sword into a sword rack. “I do rather think seeing without the sun shouldn’t be the only thing hard tonight, friends.”

“Ah… Sif…” Volstagg starts, nervous, as he ought to be because Sif has had enough of their prattling around her femaleness. _So what?!_ She can handle a sword better than the lot and won over half her matches in the past few hours!! Why must they tiptoe and dance around such a fact?! “I take it you won’t be joining us tonight?”

Sif clenches a fist beside her, glad the darkened sky hides the tell. She had _planned_ to go home, relieved of the tale-tell hours at the drinking tables.

Before Fandral can open his mouth to make a remark on a woman attending with them she answers. “Whyever would I not?”

Because she’s been attending for decades now, she’s old enough to have her place, she has a reserved seat that is _hers_ , and The Ragged Flagon is the only place in the higher ring that doesn’t water down their imported ales! How dare they assume she won’t come because of a stupid change in hair! 

“Well... you’re… uh…” 

“You mustn’t fear, it’ll be as every other day and I’ll still get the chance to drink you all under the table.”

“Ha!” Fandral exclaims, covering it up with a quick cough when he senses her heated glare: “Wonderful news Milady, let’s head up then.” 

“Stop calling me ‘milady,’ I have a name, I’d prefer you use it.”

“Of course... Milady.”

She wacks his head with a nice solid thwack.

“T’was merely a jest… Milad—”

_Thwack._

Fandral laughs, rubbing his head as he starts running ahead to get further from her. No doubt to use that wretched formal title again from afar. As if they haven’t been taverning together for years. She runs after him, and thinks on how she knows far more about him than she should, but doesn’t find his preference of women and men odd but simply another characteristic of the flirtatious bastard. It’s almost as if his preference in bed doesn’t affect her. Except for the crude remarks, but they’re not all half bad.

She thanks the Norns she was born with dark hair, again, because being as she were male or with blonde hair would throw her right onto Fandral’s radar, and he simply isn’t her type. Just as well as Thor isn’t. 

Not that Fandral hasn’t always been picky with who he beds but _Loki?_ Of all people? He’s not yet of age! There is nothing appealing she sees in him that Fandral could want, unless feminine clothes and weaker features has been his actual _type_ this entire time. (She doubts delicate men could be anyone's preference, since they're not meant to be like that, but supposes it could work out in some perverse way if there are two men involved?)

She supposes it mustn’t be too strange since she wouldn't ever say Loki is her type either but is still affronted at being paired off with _Thor —_ who she considers nothing more than a good friend _—_ who is the polar opposite.

Remembering Thor, she glances towards the forest, almost out of sight now, only visible as a completely black imposing shadow in the darkness.

Night has fallen, and the princes never returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, praise Fandral's shameless bi-ness, scream about how bad Asgard can be, yell at Odin, or ask questions about anything that may be unclear in the chapter itself. :)
> 
> Warnings: Sif refers to being attracted to both genders as peculiar and thinks it unnatural. She also implies feminine traits in a man to be undesirable so mild transphobia can be interpreted but it's mostly sexism.


End file.
